Ginny Weasley and The Boy Who Lived
by rumpelsnorcack
Summary: Ginny's take on her journey from meeting Harry to becoming Mrs Harry Potter. First person memoir style. Harry and Ginny with suggestions of other canon couples.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: The Train Station**

Ok, so first up I have to tell you all that I am old now; well 'old' is a bit of a stretch and besides, I still don't _feel_ old, so how bout we stick with 'older.' This means I'm looking back on my journey with one particularly famous man with messy black hair, green eyes, glasses and that crazily famous scar, from a distance. A lot of this is taken from my pensieve memories. Yeah we got one, handy things I tell you … especially when disciplining the kids; there's none of that guesswork about who did what. They learned right fast not to lie to us, but enough of that. That's a whole other story. This is the story of our journey to get together, and all the ups and downs we took. It's been kind of fun really, looking back; sometimes I've wanted to slap my younger self and far too often I wanted to roll my eyes at her. But you know what? She was having a hard time back then. The famous Harry Potter was not interested in her at all and she was smitten. Head over heels smitten with the poor boy. So yeah I kinda feel a bit of soft fondness for her so I've tried not to roll my eyes too hard in writing about her experiences. But anyways, I had a point here. What was it? Oh right … I wanted to say that at times I may sound older than the age I'm supposed to be. Sorry bout that, but hey. At least you know the memories are accurate. Anyways, since everyone knows Harry's version of what happened what with that 7 book biography that's out there, and that he says is pretty accurate if a little sentimental at times, I thought it would be interesting to see another angle. So, here's _my_ side of our crazy story.

For as long as I could remember I was in love with Harry Potter. Well, possibly not in love, but there was definitely a huge amount of hero worship going on. Which was funny because no-one had ever laid eyes on him, no-one really even knew if he actually existed. And frankly, even if we did know he existed, none of us properly knew what he looked like. All we knew was that he 'looked like his dad' but people say that all the time and in many cases it's only peripherally true. The pictures of James Potter that I pored over in 'A History of Modern Magic' were too blurry for me to see what he looked like anyway. Harry Potter was just a barely formed image in my mind. He had dark hair, a cool air about him, steely eyes and of course that famous scar stood out lividly on his face. So when I saw the boy on the platform that day my heart didn't sing, I didn't gasp and scream 'Oh my God! It's Harry Potter! Marry me!' I didn't even faint; I did none of the things my books taught me that a heroine is supposed to do upon first seeing her hero. Instead I walked with my mum and brothers and smiled at the nervous looking boy in oversized clothes. Mum being Mum got all nurturing and helped him through the gate to the platform. He was sweet and seemed nice, but nothing told me that _this_ was _Harry Potter_.

How, then, did I kick myself when Fred and George came barrelling out of the carriage. Well, not quite right then; there were the usual smart comments to wind Mum up, something about a Hogwarts toilet seat. Worked as usual; Mum always got in a flap when the two of them began with their suggestions about pranks they were going to pull. Usually they were joking, but they were serious often enough for Mum to be always worried about what they said. You just had to love Fred and George: they always knew how to make me smile even when I was going to be the only one left at home with Mum. I was in high spirits with them. But then they said it.

'Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we met on the train?'

I saw a black head whisk out of sight in one of the windows when they said that, and looked at the spot it had disappeared from quizically, wondering who wanted to hide away like that.

'You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?'

'Who?'

'_Harry Potter_!'

What? No way! My thoughts were wrenched away from the mystery back head right back to Mum and the boys in that minute. And of course, me being me, I had to come out with the dumbest comment ever.

'Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please …'

What the hell was I thinking? It makes me blush even now to think of that day. Was there any worse possible way to behave about someone who I had a crush on? Ok, I was 10. That still doesn't excuse that sheer idiocy of that idea. Get on the train to ogle him like a zoo animal? Yeah, way to make him notice you in a good way, Weasley! Definitely un-heroine-like behaviour! Thank goodness Mum was saner than me. She squashed the idea good and proper, and I was kept from making an even greater fool of myself than usual. Still, at the time I was not impressed. I believe pouting may have happened, possibly even recalcitrant muttering and there was definite foot stomping.

Then the train began to move and I remembered: this was the last time I would see any of the boys til Christmas. I just couldn't leave it with me standing docilely by Mum's side, now could I? Mum tried to grab me as I began to run after the train but I don't have 6 older brothers for nothing. I dodged out of her reach and raced as fast as I could, the tears still on my face from crying about wanting to go to school too, especially now that my beloved hero, Harry Potter, was going to be there. But as I caught sight of Fred and George waving their backsides out the windows at me I couldn't help laughing. I would miss them and Ron so much this year, possibly Percy a little less, but I was finally the only one left at home. It was a bit depressing really. But at least now I could say I had actually met the great Harry Potter. When talking to my friends I would skim over the fact that we didn't actually interact much. He asked my Mum a question, I smiled like an idiot. But if I told it right it would be so much cooler than that. We would have talked, maybe I would say I was the one to direct him how to get through the gate. The idea made me grin; I wished I _had_ been the one to tell him.

I looked up then, past the window where Fred and George were entertaining their friend Lee Jordan, and caught a pair of green eyes staring wistfully out of the window. Framed by glasses they stared at me as the train picked up speed. There was a look in those eyes that told of immense pain and the memory of them haunted me for the rest of that school year. I knew somehow that that was him; that was Harry Potter.

It was me who bugged Mum to make sure Harry was included in the Christmas gift owl-out. It had tickled me no end to be told that Ron, my dearest brother Ron, had made friends with Harry Potter. In the back of my mind swept the mantra: if Ron's his friend maybe he'll visit, maybe he'll notice me, maybe we'll get married. At that point I would blush furiously and get busy doing whatever it was I was supposed to be doing. But the thought persisted, and I did all I could to be sure that Mum never forgot him. Plus, the memory of those eyes, old before their time, staring at me out the window of that train still stayed with me as I worked with Mum. I knew somehow that he needed us, needed a family. Mum was great about it, of course. She has this thing about strays and of course we all knew his story so everyone felt sorry for him. The poor kid, orphaned by You-Know-Who, left to live with his muggle relatives. It was the stuff of legend; the stuff of epic romance!

It didn't seem long before we were back at that station waiting to collect the boys at the end of the year, and I was desperate to meet Harry Potter for real this time. The story about his adventure with the Philosopher's Stone was already the glorious tale of myth and adventure that is told to impressionable kids today, and he'd taken my brother with him. Oh how I wished I was at school too so I could have gone with them, and Harry could have rescued me from some great evil and we'd be happy together forever. Yeah, I admit I was a bit of a romantic. And a sappy romantic at that. What the hell did I need with rescuing anyways? A strong independent girl should save herself. But that was always the fantasy: that Harry would rescue me and we would live happily ever after. Back then I didn't know that fairy tales weren't real and being saved didn't necessarily lead to 'happy ever after' especially at the age of 10. But anyways, that's a story for later … at that time there I was clutching my mother's hand tightly, craning my neck to be the first one to see … not my brothers, no. I wanted to see Harry Potter. Then amongst the mass of people swarming off the train I saw his black head, and the shockingly green eyes. I stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Then I did the 'stupid comment' thing again!

'Harry Potter! Look, Mum, I can see …'

And then I saw that he had heard me and I wanted the world to go away so that I could pretend that I hadn't acted like _that_ in front of the great Harry Potter. While Mum talked to him in quite a motherly way about his year and he thanked her ever so politely for the Christmas gifts, I was mentally kicking myself. He heard me! Mortifying! Unthinkable! No true heroine would ever allow the hero to hear her gawking at him like a crazed fan or anything. It was becoming depressingly obvious that this wonderful relationship between us was never going to work out. At the ripe old age of 10 I had to acknowledge that I was incapable of talking rationally around the object of my desires. I sighed.

This was clearly the end of what was destined to be the greatest romance the world had ever seen! Did I mention that as well as being a romantic, I was also very dramatic? I could have clasped my hand to my forehead and swooned and it would have been fitting for my mental state at the time: 'over dramatic romantic heroine 101' had not been lost on me. Yeah, so at the end of Harry's first year at school, things didn't look promising for little Ginny Weasley. But, I consoled myself, next year we were going to be at school together. I might actually be able to, you know … talk to him. Then we'd get married and … yeah you get the picture. I was still a bit hooked up on the 'happy ever after' thing back then. That would change …


	2. Chapter 2

**Section 1: First Year**

Chapter 1: OMG, he visited us!

'Ginny could you shut up about Harry for just one minute. I'm trying to eat my breakfast'

'But Ron! You're his friend; you know all about him! What toothpaste does he use? Does he snore? What does his hair look like in the morning? …'

'Ginny! Muuuuuuuum! Make Ginny stop talking about Harry! She's driving me mental!'

'Ginny, dear, I know it's exciting that Ron's his friend, but let him eat his breakfast, there's a good girl.'

Humph! Why couldn't they see that it was super important to know all the details about him? I'd overheard Mum telling Dad how very sorry she felt for him because he didn't seem very wanted at his relatives' house, and I could tell that they were going to try and get him to come visit. And that meant, of course, as anyone with a brain would realise, that I _had_ to know all the details about him to be prepared. I rolled my eyes but shut up … for the time being. But I continued to quiz Ron constantly on everything to do with the marvellous Harry Potter. Everything he told me just made me more in love with the 'Boy Who Lived' … he was so sweet, so kind, so brave, so heroic. He was of course going to be my knight in shining armour: charging in to save the day. I wasn't sure what I was going to be saved from, but I knew it would be romantic and tie us together forever. It was fate, destiny … why couldn't anyone else see it? Yep, you guessed it: I was still Miss Dramatic. I'm not sure how anyone put up with me that summer.

The idea of knowing everything about the boy I'd dreamed about for so long was intoxicating. Poor Ron put up with it pretty well, but he was really _really_ annoyed. I could tell, but in my zeal I just didn't care. I had a mission, and no-one, especially not the one person who really tied me to Harry Potter, was going to stand in my way. Of course the twins got their share of it too. They were on the quidditch team with him. Oh, how I loved the stories: how he caught his first snitch in his mouth, how he was the youngest seeker in a hundred years … Fred and George tolerated me better than Ron did, but by the end of the holidays even they were getting that glazed look when I walked in the room.

Mum and Dad spent the nights talking in concerned whispers. It seemed that none of Ron's letters or, apparently, their friend Hermione's either, were getting through to Harry Potter. They eventually decided that if Ron hadn't heard from Harry by Friday they were going to go and get him. However, 'Friday' was too far away for my brothers. Towards the end of the summer holiday I heard Fred, George and Ron plotting a 'great escape' from Surrey for my idol. Normally in these circumstances I'd use my position as youngest child and only girl for its ultimate purpose: telling on my brothers. But for this one time I made an exception. After all, this was something I wanted more than life itself: a chance to see Harry Potter in person. I knew how it would be. I was going to be scintillating, fascinating, and altogether charming. He would be blown away by my brilliance. I went to bed that night secure that when Harry arrived I would be ready to dazzle him. I had my outfit picked out, my words carefully rehearsed, my entrance planned. I was ready to wow.

I ran down the stairs next morning ready to have my breakfast quickly so I could hurry and put on the carefully chosen, best outfit I had so I could meet Harry Potter looking my most amazing. Deep in joyous thought I didn't notice the new voice in the kitchen as I ran in. Then I saw … him. He looked up, the green eyes glinted cheerfully, and my mouth gaped open. Mortified to be seen by him in my nightdress I let out a squeal of dismay and rushed back out of the room. Even in my panic and shame I could hear Ron behind me saying 'Ginny. My sister. She's been talking about you all summer.' I let out another sob and mentally kicked myself and cursed bloody Ron to the high heavens. He was so helping me look smooth in front of Harry … not. Maybe I had been a little hasty when I dismissed his glazed look so easily this holidays; he was sure taking the first chance to smash my hopes to the ground. I had never dreamed he would tell Harry how much I had talked about him. Grumbling mightily to myself about the utter unfairness of my life I retreated to my room, determined to make a better impression the next time I met Harry.

I heard voices coming up the stairs and even though I knew it was a silly idea … a really really silly idea, I still decided to take a peek. One little look at my hero wouldn't hurt, right? He wouldn't even notice I was sure of it, so I took my chance and stood the door a little ajar just to see him. As I opened the door Ron arrived on the landing and he was accompanied by none other than the most adorable person I had ever seen. I sighed and he must have either heard me or sensed someone there because he looked over and our eyes locked. Once again I lost myself in the green depths, but as he turned to Ron I quickly came to my senses and snapped the door shut.

Leaning on the door frame my heart was beating far too fast. This was weird … different from how I'd expected it to be. Instead of sweeping me off my feet he was real, solid in a way I hadn't expected. His eyes looking into mine weren't superhuman but what was there, the depths of pain and the glimmer of fun, was so astonishing that he had literally floored me. He was no 'hero' from a story but a real person and that real person was even more fascinating than the one I had made up in my head. Now I wasn't so sure that I would be able to be suave and interesting with him around. My hopes came thudding down to reality. Maybe … maybe if I could talk to him it would be good.

Sadly, my worries were proven to be true. Every time Harry was around (I'd stopped referring to him as 'Harry Potter,' finally realising that he was a person, not a name) I seemed to knock something over. Porridge bowls, butter dishes, all sorts of drinks vessels all went flying whenever he walked into a room. In vain did I curse my idiocy and try to talk to him like a person, but every time those eyes with their mix of pain and fun turned in my direction I became a bumbling fool. In short, I turned from being in love with a romantic hero from a story and became madly in love with the boy I knew. Ron thought it was hilarious and teased me mercilessly whenever we met. I _knew_ I shouldn't have harped on Harry all summer like that. What the heck was I thinking? And now Ron was getting revenge the way only a Weasley can: teasing me about Harry in front of Harry. I was mortified on a daily basis and those last few days of the holidays were a torment for me.

The only relief in sight was the exciting day we were going to Diagon Alley for our school things. This was my first time to school, my first time getting my school books and so finally all thoughts of Harry were driven out of my head, well most thoughts of him anyway. Diagon Alley was all I talked about for days in advance, though never where Harry could hear me. Around him I suddenly became as quiet as a mouse. It still bugged me that I couldn't open my mouth around him, but it was a minor niggle in the excitement of going to Diagon Alley. And of course the day beforehand we heard a rumour that Gilderoy Lockhart was going to be there signing his books. Mum was all in a dither at the idea and her excitement rubbed off on me. It was just a rumour, but we could hope it was true.

Before that day I once again was confronted by Harry. This time I literally crashed into him outside my room. Yeah I was smooth. With the amount of clumsy things I did around that poor boy it's a wonder he survived being in our house at all.

'Oh … um … are you OK?' I stammered out, blushing madly while trying to avoid looking at him.

'Yeah, I'm fine. What about you? I think I crashed your elbow'

'Me? No … I … Ok.'

I ran madly to my room, slamming the door behind me and cursing myself over and over. How embarrassing, I couldn't even get out a whole comprehensible sentence! But he was so sweet. Did you see the way he was concerned about me? The way his eyes crinkled at the edges as he looked worried about my elbow? The drama queen in me revelled in the collision, but the pragmatist (yes I did have one, she just didn't come out much in those days) was horrified that I was such a klutz, and castigated me for my idiocy over Harry. Miss Pragmatic was sure I would do better if I could just talk to him, but Miss Dramatic liked the mystery. I think Miss Pragmatic had the better idea but she was shouted down by the drama queen and I kept on knocking stuff over around him and remained unable to talk with him around.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Diagon Alley

The big day was here finally. Diagon Alley! We all gathered in the kitchen by the big fireplace and Mum offered the floo powder to Harry. The silence was deafening, and I was once again caught by his eyes. But this time they looked haunted. We were all staring at him expectantly but it was clear, to me at least, that he had no idea what was going on. My heart melted just a little bit. Miss Pragmatic was thinking that a nice hug would do him some good, but the idea of it terrified me, and besides that would be very Mum-ish and I did not want to be like Mum. No way. A voice broke into my thoughts.

'W-what am I supposed to do?' he had finally got out in a small, worried voice and my heart melted just a little bit more.

.

All hell broke loose and Mum got all motherly on him … again. Poor guy looked like a trapped rabbit as they tried to explain flooing to him. I really wanted to step in and help him out, but my treacherous tongue wouldn't let me. It had got to a point where I thought maybe it was some kind of curse on me. I suspected Fred and George for a joke may have made me unable to talk around Harry; some sort of tongue-tying curse maybe? Oh, who was I kidding! I knew it was me, really, just my stupid idiotic 11 year old crazy crush preventing me from doing anything about it. Anyways, I'm going off on a tangent. You may have noticed I have a habit of doing that. Focus has never been my biggest virtue. So, anyway, there we were surrounding poor Harry in the kitchen sending him off into the big wide world of the floo network. I think Mum's freaking was making him feel even worse about it, but he put on a brave face and took the powder and stepped into the fire. Immediately I knew something wasn't right. His face went all red and he kind of … coughed … out the destination. He disappeared and Mum went really frantic, saying how he was our responsibility and we'd let him go off who knows where and she should have gone with him, and what would the Dursleys think if we lost him …

Dad stepped in with his trademark calm.

'Now Molly, we can't do anything panicking here. We need to go to Diagon Alley and find him.'

As usual Dad's good sense prevailed. It's an interesting relationship that one, but it works. She nurtures, he cares; she freaks, he calms things down; she stays sane, he goes nuts over muggle stuff. It's a perfect marriage and I envied them. One day I wanted to have something like that where we complemented each other perfectly. Oh, whoops, there I go with another sidetrack. So, as I was saying … we all got to Diagon Alley and then Mum insisted that we split up and try to find Harry. She and I roamed around all the shops with her furiously questioning every shop owner about whether they had a floo connection and if Harry had come out onto their premises. Her voice got more and more strident the more shops she went into without finding him. It got quite embarrassing to be seen with her and I found myself trying to stay behind her so no-one would notice me. Yes, I was anxious about Harry too, but seriously, Mum was insane that day. You'd think he was her one and only responsibility the way she was carrying on.

Anyways, out of the corner of my eye I saw Dad and the boys begin to run and I looked where they were headed. There, far in the distance right by Knockturn Alley, was a giant of a man and with him was …

'Harry!' I gasped out. 'Come onnnn, Mum! He's over there.'

'Oh, oh my goodness!' cried Mum and started to run, dragging me with her. I felt like my feet didn't hit the ground the whole time as she pulled me along behind her and my arm was almost wrenched out of the socket. When we stopped I rubbed my arm surreptitiously trying to get some feeling back into it. Mum was doing her thing again, making sure Harry was brushed down and respectable looking and fussing unbearably over him, but she was soon distracted by 'the main event': Lockhart and his book signing extravaganza.

Flourish and Blotts was packed of course and I found myself pressed up against Harry in the crush to get inside. I didn't mind exactly except that what with the way Ron had been telling Harry about my 'crush' all summer I thought he seemed a bit embarrassed by it. Just what I needed I thought, Harry is scared of me now. Thanks Ron. Pretending I wanted to get closer to Mum, I managed to move away from him. No point in making him anxious to be around me, not when we had to spend so much time together.

Then I saw him. Gilderoy Lockhart. Oh how he gleamed in the light of the bookshop; it was clear he was greater than a normal person. His clothes were gorgeous! I wished my dad would find robes like that. Yes, OK, I admit I had very bad taste back then, and as you can tell I still had a taste for the dramatic. You have to remember I was an 11 year old girl. 11 year old girls are notoriously big on bling, and Mr Lockhart was covered in it. Suddenly he looked up and his face lit up with the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. No wonder he won Witch Weekly's smile of the year award so many times. He was … stupendous. He leapt up and practically shouted out 'It _can't_ be Harry Potter!' he grabbed Harry and pulled him up the front with him. Of course that wasn't his best move if he was trying attract female attention as now all I could focus on was my hero and I managed to miss everything Lockhart said because I was too busy watching the emotions play across Harry's face. He looked mortified and reluctant to be up there. That was one thing I'd noticed about Harry even in the tiny amount of time we'd spent together: he was far from being conceited about his fame. In fact he seemed almost ashamed of it. Lockhart was saying something about books and Hogwarts but I wasn't paying attention at all.

Harry, with his arms full of books, was headed in my direction … he was coming here, to me. I panicked. What should I do … what should I say?

'You have these' he said, tipping them into my cauldron. 'I'll buy my own –' I stammered out my thanks but a rough voice came in over top of me and I doubt Harry heard me at all.

'Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter? _Famous_ Harry Potter. Can't even go into a _bookshop_ without making the front page.'

The look on Harry's face was enough for me. I forgot where I was, I forgot who I was with, my blood boiled and I came out with 'Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!' I was glaring at the horrid faced little git who had dared to accuse Harry, sweet Harry, of being an attention seeker. I saw a look of glee cross the pointed face.

'Potter, you've got yourself a _girlfriend_!' A what? That may be what I wished for every day I saw him, but to shout it out … in front of all these people. I felt myself turn that hideous shade of red I get when I'm really _really_ embarrassed. _That'll teach me for saying things in front of Harry_, I thought. But I saw him turn to look at me and his eyes were kind. He turned back to Draco Malfoy and seemed about to say something, when the rest of my family butted in. Of course. Big dramatic sighs ensued (well internally they did. I wasn't at all comfortable enough to be actually sighing over Harry in his presence).

In a way I was grateful to everyone for sticking up for me; that boy was intimidating and I really didn't want to be up against him anymore, but a small part of me did wish I knew what Harry was going to say right then. Even though it must have been excruciating for him to deal with my fan-girl crush he was never anything but kind to me over it. Ron, Fred and George were always taking the mickey out of me in the way that only brothers can, but Harry never did. His kindness only made me love him more, which of course had the most desirable effect of making me even less able to talk around him. It was my very own personal catch-22. In order to talk to him I had to stop liking him, but to stop liking him I had to start talking to him and finding some flaws. You see the dilemma here. One day I was sure I'd stop existing altogether if he kept being around me.

Anyway, somehow we managed to get ourselves home. And at home, shut up by myself in my bedroom, I overcame thoughts of Harry long enough to unpack my new books from my cauldron. Of course I had to take a good few minutes out to sigh happily over the fact that Harry chose to give Lockhart's books to me, _me_. Out of all the Weasleys he chose _me_. I wondered for a bit why he did that … and all my most treasured fantasies involved him realising his undying love for me and this being his way to tell me. Deep down I knew it wasn't really the case but I was an 11 year old girl, and 11 year old girls can't help but dream the impossible dream.

Anyway, once I'd got over the ridiculous fantasy world that grew up around me I noticed something weird in amongst my books. There were all the books on my reading list but there was also one addition, a blank diary. I took a few moments wondering why I had been bought a diary, but I figured that Mum or more likely Dad must have thought I'd like somewhere to write my thoughts about my first year at Hogwarts. It was a curious colour, and looked quite old but then most of our stuff was old. The books Harry had given me glinted weirdly among the second hand worn copies of everything else, so the diary seemed to fit. You know people think second hand things are a let down, but truly when it comes right down to it they have been seeped in the love of a previous owner. I truly don't mind having hand me down things. They make me part of something larger than me and I like that. But I still was immeasurably thrilled that Harry had chosen to give me new books. It wasn't that they were new that was the exciting thing about them; it was that they were from Harry.

On an impulse I flipped over onto to tummy on the bed and began to write about my love of Harry in my new diary.

'My name is Ginny Weasley and I have a secret crush' I wrote giddily. But then I jumped up and leaped back with a tiny shriek. The words had disappeared, and in their place came new ones: 'Hello, Ginny Weasley. My name is Tom Riddle and this is my diary.'

'How? I mean, how can you write to me?'

'I preserved my memories in a more permanent way in this diary. I've been waiting a long time for someone to talk to. Will you talk with me sometimes?'

'Sure, I guess. I'm just a silly little girl but I can talk to you sometimes.'

'Wonderful. Now, Ginny. Tell me about this secret crush of yours …'

And so began the weirdest and in some ways most frightening friendship of my life. That diary became one of my biggest supports that year, and provided an interesting connection to Harry. Riddle was charming, articulate, supportive and, unlike all my family, endlessly interested in hearing all about Harry.

When we headed to the train station to get the Hogwarts Express I had a sudden moment of panic. I had left my diary, my very best friend, at home. We had to turn the car around and rush back for it. Dad was all for leaving it and maybe sending it to me by owl post later, but I threw a genuine Weasley tantrum and he went back for it. Given what I know now about that diary and what happened that year I almost wish we had left it behind, or burned it or something. I say almost, because, well, because the diary was instrumental in bringing me and Harry closer that year. Not truly close yet, but definitely closer than we had been. It was the start of something, no matter how dreadful it had been. And, though this is kinda jumping the gun, it gave me a connection to Harry that no-one else could ever share and so in a way through that dreadful diary we were connected in a very real way. Still, if I had known that day what the diary really was I'm sure I would have chosen to leave it behind rather than pouting over it.

We got to the station only just on time. Fred and George were casting dirty looks in my direction which I resented a little because I wasn't the only one who had left something behind that absolutely _had to_ be brought with us. Mum and Dad rushed us through the barrier and came running after me. I have since blamed myself for what happened next because if they hadn't come right after me … oh well, there's nothing to do about it now. We turned quickly expecting Harry and Ron right after us and yet nothing happened. Mum started panicking of course and tried to get back through to get the boys. But the door had sealed somehow and so she and Dad got me and the other boys on the train and safely on our way to Hogwarts. As the train disappeared around the corner I saw them grasp hands and disapparate out of there. All the way to Hogwarts I was curious as to what had happened to Harry and Ron. But I had no way to know just how interesting what they had done was.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3: First days At School

If I had been worried about the boys before I left in the train it was nothing to how I felt when I realised I was left all alone in that train with no-one to sit with. I didn't count Percy for 2 reasons. First, he was obsessed with his prefect duties and so was prowling around the train almost the whole time, and second he was insufferable and the idea of sitting with him all the way to Hogwarts was … well, let's just say I'd rather eat dung than put myself through all those hours of concentrated Percy-ness. Fred and George would have been a bit more fun to hang out with but they were all caught up with Lee Jordan and the other girls on the quidditch team so I just slunk off by myself.

I soon found a carriage which had only one other occupant and I quickly sat down with her. She looked a little weird with her dirty yellow hair and vague expression, but she also seemed very sweet under it all. I smiled at her and asked her name

'Oh, I'm Luna. But you can call me Looney. Everyone else does.'

'But that's horrible!' I gasped.

'Horrible? Why?' queried Luna. 'I think you may have been attacked by wrackspurts. They are only being friendly; it's just a fun nickname.'

'If you say so' I said, wondering what a wrackspurt was.

Despite her odd ideas I really liked Luna; she was never afraid to say what she thought even if others thought she was odd. We had a great time on that train trip to Hogwarts and made firm friends. I hoped we would be in the same house, as then at least I'd know one nice person in my year in my house. While I was nervous about my sorting, Luna seemed impervious to it. With her as an example I soon put aside my worries (but I still desperately hoped to be in Gryffindor like my family, like Harry).

Crossing the lake to the castle was a beautiful experience. The lights of the castle twinkling on the water were breathtaking and seeing it made me feel so proud and so happy to be finally going to school with all the others. Luna beside me was serene and at ease and she made me feel so at peace with myself. That peace was lost as soon as we passed under the eaves of the dock and scrambled out of the boats. Professor McGonagal, who I'd heard so much about, was waiting for us looking stern and uncompromising. Her eyes swept the groups and she said 'Follow me first years. The sorting will begin in the Great Hall momentarily.'

I took a deep breath and followed behind her. We walked into the Great Hall and looked around. All those faces staring at us, it was unnerving. My eyes drifted to the Gryffindor table and I felt a wrench in my gut. Harry and Ron weren't there. I checked twice to be sure, but they were definitely not seated amongst the chattering students at the table. Something terrible had gone wrong at the station. I finally started to panic and if I hadn't been surrounded by so many people I would have turned tail and run. It was an almost physical need to find out what was wrong. Luna looked at me in mild surprise and said 'Ginny, what's wrong? It's just a sorting Billygid you know. It feels your aura and tells you what house you should be in. There's nothing to worry about.' I grimaced, but didn't say anything. My feelings about Harry and my terror over Ron I would only share with my very best friend. Tom Riddle.

I was moderately interested in the sorting even though my every nerve was thrumming with the worry over Harry … and Ron of course. I desperately wanted to be with Luna, but when she was called she was placed straight into Ravenclaw. I was sad to see it, but I knew that if it was a choice between Ravenclaw with Luna and Gryffindor with Harry … and my brothers … well, let's just say I told myself I preferred red and gold as colours. I was called up to the stool and sat down, terrified of what would happen if I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor.

'Please let me be with Harry, please let me be with Harry' I chanted in my head.

'Well, we have a little crush I see. Sad to say that we don't place based on crushes.'

'Oh please, oh please ….' I begged silently

'But fortunately for you, you have all the hallmarks of a Gryffindor: courage to speak your mind, strong athletic skills, very strong will. Yes I think it better be GRYFFINDOR!'

Heaving the hugest sigh of relief I jumped off the stool and ran to the red and gold table. Now that the sorting was over and I was where I was meant to be, with the boy of my dreams and all, I was able to turn my worried attention to where he could possibly have gotten to. I leant over to Fred and whispered

'Fred! Do you know what happened to Harry and Ron?'

'Ooh, Harry first in your mind wee sister?'

'Shut up!' I hissed, blushing a furious scarlet and glaring at him with my patented Ginny death glare. 'What do you think happened to them?'

At that moment professor McGonagall hurried up to us and said in a low voice 'I thought you lot would like to know. Your brother has been spotted flying a car into Hogwarts grounds. He and Mr Potter are fine but they are in a great deal of trouble.'

Fred and George whooped, and I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding. He was safe. They were safe. My whole body lost a degree of tension and I was able to relax for the first time since we got through that barrier to the station. At that moment a diversion came in the form of the prefects calling to us to follow them to the common room. I waved at Luna across the hall and dutifully followed my classmates up to the Gryffindor common room.

Percy, pompous as usual, led us up the stairs and finally directed us to our dormitories but not before he made a show of coming over to me in all his prefectly glory, puffing out his chest and stating so the entire world could hear 'Oh well done Ginny. Held up the family honour after all' and making me just about sink into the floor in humiliation. Honestly! Can you see a little why I didn't sit with him on the train? What a prize prat!

Just then the portrait hole swung open and Ron and Harry were pulled into the room. Amongst the whole crowd I don't think they spotted me, but I was grinning like a loon just like everyone else. Though I don't think I was grinning for the same reasons as everyone else; they were all impressed by the idea of the flying car. I was impressed by Harry himself. Miss Dramatic had a field day with my first sight of him. After not seeing him for so many hours, seeing Harry again was just … beautiful. His hair was even more messy than usual and his eyes seemed a deeper green as he was being congratulated. He looked tired, guilty and yet under it all was an enthusiasm for what they'd done. His face was trying unsuccessfully to hide a sheepish grin, and as he and Ron caught sight of Percy over the crowd they made a quick exit to the boys' dormitories. I felt a surge of disappointment. Not that I blame them at all. Who'd want to put up with that moralising, pompous oaf yelling at them, especially when it was pretty sure that Mum would be in bright and early with her version of the Weasley lecture. But I did want to, you know, maybe try and talk to Harry again. Perhaps a 'congratulations on the entrance' … if I managed to make Miss Dramatic stop with the big sighs and longing looks and get up the courage to actually talk to him; after all I was Gryffindor now. I needed to be brave.

At least they were safe and at Hogwarts. Now my time at school could really begin. For the first time I really looked around me and saw how cool the Gryffindor common room was. The red and gold highlights on everything were beautiful and it had a cosy, lived in feel to it almost like home. The reality finally sank in: I was in! I'd done it! Harry and I were fellow Gryffindors, and of course my family would be so proud. I hastened upstairs and pulled out my diary to say all my first impressions of school life and of course tell Tom a little more about Harry. Tom was so understanding of me, he'd told me he knew what it was like to be in love with someone who didn't want you and he was so sympathetic. Honestly, I'd never met anyone nicer than he was. He really was my very best friend and no-one could take that away from me.

By mid week, my heart had stopped doing backflips every time I came into the common room just because I thought Harry might be there. It only did that now if I really truly did see Harry. I'm sure he was quickly sick of the goofy, fangirly simper I used to wear whenever he was around, but thankfully for me there was a far worse, far more annoying fanboy hanging around him. I must have seemed like a model of restrained admiration when he compared me to Colin Creevey. I was jealous, oh yes. Colin got away with memorising Harry's timetable and getting to hear that gorgeous voice snap out 'Hi Colin' between every class. But Colin wasn't in love, you see, and I told myself that true love like mine was unable to follow the object of affection around. I had to content myself with sighing from a distance and metaphorically clasping that dramatic hand to my forehead anytime we did happen to be in the same place at the same time. It wasn't that I was scared to be around him. No no. It was that I had a pure affection for him. Yes, you can roll your eyes now. I really had a bad case of little girl love and I don't see how he ever stood it with the dignity that he did.

At least he was still unfailingly kind to me. And if there was that hint of exasperation in his voice when he spoke to Colin it was never there with me. _See_, I kept telling myself, _see, he really does love me too_. But of course in the depths of the night when I was talking to my best friend Tom I always remembered the way he turned from me and hung around with Ron and Hermione. I cursed my luck that I was a year too young to be in his class. A year too young to be one of his best friends. A year too young to make him even notice me more than as Ron's kid sister. In vain did I kick myself and say at least I knew him, knew the hero of the wizarding world. But I never could accept that he was so near and yet so very far away from being my friend. So I poured my heart and soul out about my sadness to Tom, and he grew ever more patient and comforting.

Classes were interesting, as were our teachers. I tended to sit with Colin Creevey because, well, he was always willing to talk about Harry and listen to my enumerations of his perfections happily and of course Luna joined us when we had classes with the Ravenclaws. Her serene presence always made me feel better. Even if I'd done something hideously ridiculous in front of Harry (like, oh Merlin, this one time I ate my cereal so fast I made dreadful slurping noises not realising he was there and another time I tripped over and sprawled on my face, robes over my head and he was there and asked if I was OK … oh, the mortification!) Luna was able to calm me down and make me feel at peace and at ease with myself. She was often called 'Looney' by the other kids, but I couldn't understand how they could not appreciate the value in her. Maybe they didn't have anything they needed to relax about and so didn't need Luna's wonderful sense of sweet calm.

The teachers were … well, yes 'interesting' is a good word. Snape was everything Ron had said. He chose Luna to pick on, probably because she was so 'different,' but it always sailed over her head so he seemed to get more angry that he couldn't make her react. I adored McGonagal; she was strict but such a good teacher. I always seemed to grow into myself in her class and she seemed to have a soft spot for me too. I don't know why, but she made me feel much more clam in her classes than anywhere else in the school. By far the worst, however, even worse than Binns and his snooze-inducing lectures, was Lockhart. Mr 'I'm so in love with myself I think I'll pass out' was not a good teacher. Not at all. He often just rambled on about his own achievements and was never able to answer any actual question about the dark arts unless it dealt with him. I was so bored in his classes I used to doodle little hearts over my parchment with 'HP 4 GW' all over them. In fact I may just have one of those left. I wonder if I should go hunt it out. Harry might appreciate the laugh now. I sure as heck know he didn't appreciate it back then when Fred stole one and humiliated me by showing the whole common room. Now that I think back on it that year was filled with numerous tiny moments of humiliation. I'm amazed my little crush survived all the teasing, but it did.

So basically, those first few weeks were interesting. I nurtured both my crush and my brain throughout all my classes and outside activities and life looked set to carry on as normal as possibly for a magical school girl. Unfortunately, things were just about to get far worse for me.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4: Dear Diary.

And so of course we come to what was really the heart of that year. This is a hard time for me to write about and it's even harder to be flippant. The Harry stuff, you know, I can laugh that off. I was young, I was stupidly in love but there was no real harm in it. But this … this was deep and dark and it hasn't ever really been erased from my soul. I still feel kinda dirty when I think back to those days. But really, to tell the tale of me and Harry you have to tell this part. This part is what really cemented us as a future possibility so it wasn't all bad. But you know going back there … it's hard. Just don't expect belly laughs this chapter OK.

You all recall, I'm sure, that I had been writing to Tom Riddle via the diary all year so far (yeah the few weeks we'd been there felt like 'all year' OK. Time feels different when you're that age). He had been supportive, caring, so very very kind to me. But he began to change. It happened so subtly that I didn't even notice it at first. His words slowly moved from comforting sweetness about my love to demanding to know more about Harry. It seemed at first that he was just taking an interest in what I had to say, but over time it became more and more obvious that he was becoming obsessed with Harry. Harry had quite the fan club that year!

'Ginny, please tell me what's wrong.'

'It's Harry, Tom. He just never notices me as anything other than Ron's baby sister. It's not fair. He's so famous and gorgeous and wonderful and I'm an insignificant nobody.'

'That's not true Ginny. You're my friend aren't you? That makes you somebody. Anyway, what's he famous for? Sports? You said he was the youngest quidditch player in a century'

'No, Tom. Oh, I can't believe you don't know! Harry defeated the worst wizard ever when he was just a baby. Drove all his powers right away.'

'The worst wizard ever?'

'Voldemort. Have you even heard of him, Tom?'

'No. Tell me more. Tell me about Harry and Voldemort. How did a baby drive away a grown wizard's powers?'

'Well, no-one knows, that's why it's so mysterious and amazing that he did it. Oh, Tom. He's so amazing …'

And it carried on from there. Tom was obsessed with finding out all he could about Harry, but all the while he was feeding me with ideas about myself too.

'Ginny, you can do better than them. You know you're better than all of them. Why not try to become the best you can be …' It all sounded so nice. Strive for excellence, be the best 'you' you can be. But underlying it all he was slyly generating in me a sense of worthlessness. Cunningly made to sound like he was building me up he was actually bringing up 'rumours' about me that I worried were true but that I didn't want to acknowledge. He'd say 'they're just jealous. Who could possibly think you weren't as bright as your brothers' or 'Don't worry what people are saying about you. They talk behind the backs of popular kids as well as losers, you know.' It was all designed to make me think these horrid thoughts about myself, and I can't believe I allowed it to work. Looking back on it all I feel I was so naïve, but it was so easy to trust him since he'd been so charming at the start of our acquaintance.

Then I began to lose my memory. One day all the school roosters were found dead and I had feathers all over me. I couldn't have done it … could I? I panicked and told Tom I thought I was losing my mind. He was soothing, so very soothing. Told me I was just dreaming; that I couldn't have done it. I was asleep in my bed. It made sense, but I was still so worried. But Tom was my friend and he always managed to comfort me again. It makes me sick to my stomach now to think how much I relied on that bloody diary to get me through. If only I had known then what it was I think I would have had strength to throw it away for good. But Tom was so clever. He had got me to trust him just by being so nice and understanding and kind to me. Then he slowly, so very slowly it was hard to see it happen, turned me around. I don't want you to feel sorry for me. But I was manipulated by a master there. I just … I wish it had been different. I particularly don't like the way I was used to get to Harry.

The dreadful things I did, was forced to do, were an attempt, after finding out from me what Harry was like, to get him to interact with Riddle himself. I want to bury my face in my hands when I remember that I gave Riddle the ammunition he used to lure Harry to the Chamber of Secrets. All my adoration for Harry, my love of talking about him, my innocent obsession, was boiled down to what it could gain a sadistic evil bastard. But that's getting a little ahead of ourselves. Suffice it to say that during that time I was getting more and more tense. My brothers had noticed it and for once in my life I was grateful to Percy. He was furious with the way the twins were treating me, and started looking out for my wellbeing. Ahhh, Percy, your officiousness did finally come in handy! I vividly remember the time Percy made me take pepper-up potion to cure me of my down trodden look. I also well remember the look of mirth on Harry's face as he saw me with steam pouring out from under my hair. That generated one of my longest and most impassioned ravings to the diary. I'm sure Harry didn't mean to hurt me, in fact I'm sure it barely registered with him at all, but catching that look on his face just made all those fears about myself seem so much more real. I became even more depressed, convinced that Harry thought I was just a silly little girl and that my only means of comfort was that bloody … book.

You know, even now it boggles me that someone so charming as Tom Riddle could be so very nasty deep inside. I wonder over and over again: was he born like that with that incapacity to connect with people, or did he grow that way? When I think of him in that orphanage I wonder. But then I think of Harry who had as bad a childhood and came out almost the opposite and I'm forced to wonder if it really is inherent in people. Whether evil is inborn and Riddle never had a chance. But … but surely he did? The charming person must have at least been born with the ability to make the right choice. I hate the idea that a child could be inherently evil. I look at my own precious babies and think 'oh Merlin. Is one of _them_ evil inside?' Is there really nothing that a parent can do to help those 'lost' children? I can't bring myself to believe that.

Either way, it didn't help me as my mind was slowly poisoned against myself and I fell increasingly under the spell of the diary. In a way I was really to blame and I still to this day know that if I had only heeded my father's very wise words not to trust something that thinks if you can't see where its brains live I would have never got in as deep as I did. I remember those days and I want to shake myself and scream 'why Ginny? Why didn't you show Dad? Why?' But I know why. It's because I was a sad, lonely little girl and I relished having someone all my own to tell all my secrets to.

See I told you there'd not be many belly laughs in this part of this memoir. It's all a bit depressing, so let's just move on a little shall we? Not that the rest is much better for a while. My first year at school was a real downer when you look back on it. The only real bright spot was being able to see Harry and interact with him even on the periphery and, of course, write about him in the diary.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5: The Heir of Slytherin.

Even though I was beginning to think I was losing my marbles, not that I had many to start with given my idiocy over Harry, I managed to enjoy the time leading up to Halloween. I had even concocted a plan to become friends with Harry at the Halloween feast. A little pumpkin juice, a little treacle tart and I was sure, absolutely certain, that I would finally be able to talk to him and amaze him with my scintillating wit. Yeah, I know I still had a case of the romantic dramatics when it came to the boy hero. Unfortunately my very well laid and conceived plans were scuppered by him not turning up to the feast. For a while I looked around me trying to see him, but I quickly realised that he wasn't there and neither were Ron or Hermione. So I figured they were off together somewhere. Colin Creevey had noticed my eager scouting of the hall and sad dejection as I noticed they weren't there and he said 'Oh, Harry's not around. Apparently he and his friends are at a real Deathday party. I'd have loved to see it but I wasn't invited.'

Colin's words cut through me. 'His friends' he said, which meant I wasn't one of them. I knew that of course but hearing someone else acknowledge it was terrible. And of course there was the fact that Colin knew where he was and I didn't. In my despair I didn't remember that Colin was an annoying little puppy dog trailing Harry every minute of the day and so of course would know what he was up to. All I could see was the realisation that Harry had told Colin what he was up to and not me. I stifled a sob and with as much dignity as I could muster I left the Great Hall saying I needed to go to the bathroom. If that was code for 'I need to go cry myself to oblivion and wail about this in my diary' then yes, I was going to the bathroom.

The rest is a little fuzzy round the edges. I recall opening the diary and beginning to sob out my story to Tom. Then everything is blank and when I noticed the time it was dark. I hadn't written in the diary for very long and yet so much time had passed. I was stressed, worried, wondering how I'd managed to get what looked like blood on my hands and in my hair. I was confused and concerned by these things but not yet completely terrified. That was about to change.

Someone came charging in to our dormitory screaming about some cat that had been killed outside a girl's bathroom, and there was blood all over the walls and the words 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened; Enemies of the Heir, beware' written in the same blood. I started shaking as I stared at my hands. I had lost time somehow and I couldn't deny that I had blood all over me (well that's a bit hyperbolic, but I did definitely have blood on my hands and in my hair). I was really beginning to be worried. I mean … what if I did it? I had harboured suspicions about myself after the feather incident and the rooster, and come to think of it I lost a bit of time then too. But this … I had killed a cat? A cat? I love cats, and I had killed one? Stress was becoming more and more rampant in me. The screamer didn't notice as she had gone on with her screeching rounds and I was left to my own terror and worry. For the first time I had a tiny glimpse that I didn't want to write about this to Tom. I just felt too disgusting and dirty to share it even with him.

I still talked to my diary over the next few weeks, but I held back on some stuff. I didn't tell Tom my suspicions at that time and being keenly aware of nuance he carefully became once more soothing and comforting. I'm sure Tom was wondering why I didn't tell him about my experience and I'm sure he knew that I was worried and suspicious of myself, so he went back to his very most kind and wonderful. Slowly I trusted myself again and allowed my truest thoughts to resurface. So my heart reopened to others and I allowed myself to spill my dreams of Harry out into the diary once more. Then it happened twice again.

First it was Colin Creevey and then Justin Finch-Fletchley. Rumour was rife in the school that it was someone with a vendetta against muggleborns. That it was Harry. I knew it couldn't be Harry. I mean even without my suspicions of myself I couldn't see why everyone could even think that. After all, Hermione Granger was one of his best friends, so why would he be down on muggleborns? Not to mention that anyone who spent even a little time with him had to see that he was not at all bad or nasty or anything. The Hufflepuffs were behind a lot of it of course because they took what happened to Justin personally. And the word was that even before Justin was petrified they were sure it was Harry. His parseltongue at the duelling club was quickly transmuted to him being an evil Slytherin in disguise, but really he looked so small and drawn into himself it was obvious, to me at least, that he was not at fault. 'Course I did pay a tiny bit more attention to him than all the others did, just a little bit. Filch didn't help with the blaming of Harry at all either. His haunting of where Mrs Norris got attacked and his deep abiding hatred of Harry because of that incident made the rest of the students look at him askance even before the parseltongue. The fact that Filch was a squib and that Harry had been the one to unmask him was huge gossip around the school, so of course Filch was angry at Harry. And it all added up to a terrible situation.

And of course for me there was the extra fear that this was my fault somehow. I always worried that it was me; there was so much time I couldn't account for and it always seemed to happen right around the time of the attacks. I was terrified and there was no-one I could turn to except the diary. The problem was that I was beginning to fear the diary as much as I feared what was happening. The times that I went blank and couldn't remember anything were all directly related to the times I really poured my heart into what I wrote in the diary. I was terrified that I had something to do with the attacks and that Tom was making me do it somehow. I had no idea why it could be happening and I was sick with the worry over Harry. I had the immense guilt too, that came with my worry that Harry was being blamed for something I did. I do feel that since he was so important to me back then I should probably have done what I could to get him out of suspicion. But I didn't and my guilt ate at me and I poured that into the diary as well. Tom grew fat and lush on my fears and worries. Fatter than he had on my dreams, since those darker emotions were the ones he understood and fed off more while he was alive.

I caught sight of Harry every now and then around the school and he looked stressed and worried. The only times he seemed genuinely happy were when Fred and George were doing their ridiculous 'Seriously evil wizard coming through' routines. He seemed to know that they were only joking and it helped him that some people didn't seriously think he was the Heir. I wanted to let him know that I also believed it wasn't him. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. The overwhelming fear that it was really me kept me from talking to him about it. And while I knew Fred and George were having silly fun I also thought they would turn on me if I let them know I was to blame. My brothers made repeated references to the way I was looking and how it was Ok and I didn't have to worry. They were so very kind to me and honestly worried about my mental state. I know Percy, at least, had written to Mum about me as I was getting kind and caring letters back from her every few days. They all honestly were trying very hard to make things right for me but it didn't help. Every word they said crashed into me like knives because I knew they were comforting the wrong person.

In increasing desperation I did turn again to Tom. My entries were more panicked:

'Tom, I think I'm the one doing this stuff. I know you said it wasn't me but all these strange things are going on and I feel like I don't know what I've been doing during that time … '

He was always comforting as normal, but at times he seemed so odd. It was almost like he was enjoying the things I said were happening. And above it all was his continued obsession with Harry and what he was doing. I could never figure out why he wanted to know so much about him and why his tone had become slightly hostile as he spoke about him. What had poor Harry done to upset him so badly? His hostility to Harry and his veiled threats that I should 'do something' about him if he was the one attacking other students in the school eventually scared me so much that I tried to throw the diary away. I was finding myself beginning to harbour bad thoughts about Harry. In my deepest core I knew he was innocent but there were often thoughts skittering on the surface of my mind that he was evil and needed to be stopped. That he couldn't possibly be good if he spoke parseltongue, that it must be his fault since everyone thought so. And, most scary of all, that I should try and get him attacked to rid us of the fear he inspired. That did it.

In a panic over the way I was feeling about Harry I raced off to the bathroom where the first attack had occurred. It seemed symbolic to me that I would rid myself of the diary in the spot where it had all started. I thought maybe that I could reverse the process and possibly wake those people up if it was indeed me. So with all my strength I threw the diary into a toilet. Once more it was symbolic. I wanted to flush the pain and fear and terror out of my life. But, really, looking back it wasn't the wisest move. I mean what did I think was going to happen? I should have actually destroyed that thing. Ripped it to pieces or something. But instead I allowed it to be found by an innocent person. Still, I'm going to be kind to myself here. Riddle had such a hold on my mind that I don't think I could have destroyed his home completely. I'm still vaguely impressed that I was able to throw it away at all. My feelings for Harry were obviously sufficient to overcome it all. I snort to myself sometimes when I think of it. For once my little girl crush had been of some use to me.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6: Valentines Day.

For some reason I was totally comfortable now being Miss Romantic and Dramatic again. Having gotten rid of the diary was a huge weight off my shoulders and I was unbelievably light and happy. Of course not all of my fears and insecurities had gone away, but they were so lightened that I became almost a new me again. I was certainly back in a space where I could pay real and proper attention to the adoration of my life. Mr Harry Potter please come take the spotlight in little Ginny Weasley's life story once again. It had come to my attention during this period that it was almost the day of lovers. Valentine's Day. And what better time to show Harry how I truly felt than that? I wasn't going to sign it or anything, but you know a card for him for Valentines would be sweet wouldn't it?

I was helped in my mission by the one person I would never have expected. Gilderoy Lockhart started Valentines Day that year with a blast. I went into the Great Hall and saw that it was festooned brilliantly with pink and hearts and confetti. It was lurid but it was magnificent to my 11 year old romantic soul. I saw people all around me with twisted mouths and sniggery faces but I couldn't understand it. The Great Hall looked beautiful. For once Lockhart had shown some taste. Yeah, remember a while back when I said I had no taste back then? I was right. I saw it in the pensieve. Hideous, hideous decorations and Lockhart himself was … awful. But unfortunately my younger self delighted in the allure of all the pink and frills and just the complete romance of the day. I forgive her; she was just recovering from the diary stuff and newly interested in Harry again. Of course something like this would set of her romance-dar.

Around me several of the younger girls (and one or two of the older ones if you want to know the truth) were simpering and sighing over Lockhart in his striking robes. Then he stood up to talk and the romantics among us sighed in delight as he outlined what he was going to do that day. Singing Cupids and romantic lessons. Oh it all sounded so wonderful. Of course some of the teachers didn't look so accommodating. McGonagall looked like she had swallowed a lemon and Professor Snape wasn't looking like he really wanted to help anyone with love potions, so I carefully put that idea on hold. I didn't think I'd have the nerve to ask him anyways, but really by the end of Lockhart's speech it was clear he was ready to curse anyone who even tried to ask anything even slightly romantic. So, I turned my thoughts to the other idea that had been simmering. Singing Cupids, hmmmmm? That could work for me. I could just see it now: Harry walking through the school, politely accepting when the cupid sang its song to him then turning and spotting me; realising I had sent it and running towards me in slow motion to declare that he felt the same way. The very idea set my romantic heart aflutter.

I sighed in bliss and got immediately to work. Well, immediately upon getting to class anyways. Potions was perfect since I sat in the back and Snape never paid me any attention anyway. I felt so brave and cool sitting there not doing my work but rather taking part in the Valentines spirit despite Snape's dislike for it. So … to work. I needed a fantastic first line that would capture the essence of the unique being that was Harry Potter.

_His eyes are as green as the grass on the lawn …_

No, no good. Far too ordinary. His eyes were extraordinary. I needed something better than that. I looked around the classroom for inspiration and realised that Snape had recently pickled some toads. They were perfect. The colour glimmering out from the jars that held them was unique and fresh just like Harry's eyes. And they were mysterious and 'different' … it definitely worked.

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad_. Perfect.

Now onto the next line. Wow, this was harder than I thought. His hair; I figured the next line definitely needed to be about his gorgeous messy black hair.

_His hair is as …_ what? _Black as the dark black night_? Ummm, might do. I'd have to see if I could get a good rhyme for it first. OK, next line. Oh I knew what to write at once: _He's mine, so divine_. Oh, but wait. He wasn't mine. I just wished he was. I kept thinking for a few intense minutes. I'm sure Snape thought I was being terribly studious with my brow knit and my face screwed in super concentration. Hmmm, Oh now I finally had it! I finally had a great idea what to write.

_I wish he was mine, he's really divine_

_The hero who conquered the D__ark Lord_.

Yeah I liked that, but I wasn't so sure about that second line. It doesn't seem to fit. I really really needed something that rhymes with 'Lord" and is also black. Um … um … I looked around for more inspiration and came up with: the blackboard. Yes, yes yes. It would work.

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard_.

I sighed happily. I had my poem. Now all I needed to do was to find one of those cupids to give it to him for me. Despite my slow motion dream at breakfast I hoped I wouldn't be around to see it delivered as I figured I'd go all sorts of clumsy again, and possibly red as well. Miss Dramatic would have a field day with having Harry get my Valentine where I could see. So I made a plan. I would try and make sure I would be in class when it was given to him.

'You understand, right? He has to get it in class. Not out in the halls. In class' I reiterated because the grumpy looking dwarf didn't look like he was paying attention.

'Yeah, yeah. Not in class, in the halls. I got it.' He ambled away and I stared after him too petrified to speak. Oh no, he'd got it all wrong. OK, plan B then. I would stay far away from everywhere Harry was likely to be. We weren't in the same year and hardly ever crossed paths in the halls between classes, so I was sure It'd be fine.

I began to breathe easily as we headed upstairs past the charms corridor to our own class. I hadn't seen Harry at all that day and I figured my Valentine must have been delivered by now. I was almost cocky as I walked up the stairs. Then I heard the commotion coming from behind me and I turned around. My mouth dropped open in horror. There was Harry … and he was being chased by none other than my busy little singing cupid. Harry's bag suddenly ripped as the cupid pulled on it and all his stuff went everywhere. I was transfixed, not with the sight of my poor dear Harry scrambling around trying to get away from my Valentines delivery. No, I was horrified at what I saw in his pile of possessions. Tom Riddle's diary was there amongst the smashed ink bottles and dripping books. What's more the ink that had crashed everywhere else had left the diary untouched. It was impossible that Harry wouldn't notice. And what then? What if he told the diary about me and then what if the diary told him stuff back? How could this have happened? How could _Harry_ have been the one to pick up the diary I so casually threw in the toilet? I cursed myself: why hadn't I destroyed it when I had the chance?

I had another dreadful thought. What if the diary got Harry to do the bad things now? It was even more important to stop that happening to him than it was to prevent the diary telling him about me. Then the stupid dwarf began to sing and I returned back to the present. There was my Harry being sat on in order to have my Valentine sung to him. And as well as my classmates, there were also Draco Malfoy (I groaned internally) and my brother Percy hanging around as well as some other people I didn't know. This was almost exactly my nightmare scenario for this situation in action. But at least Harry didn't know I was the one who sent it. I still had _some_ dignity. And the dwarf was finally winding down now, so it may be OK …

'_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord…'_ He warbled cheerfully, then clambered to his feet and finally allowed Harry to get up. Harry was trying to look like he thought it was a great joke but not succeeding very well. His face was about as mortified as I thought mine must be. Then, it did go from bad to worse. Percy and Draco Malfoy got into a verbal sparring match and Malfoy wound up with the diary. I was horrified. He was going to open it. I could tell.

'Wonder what Potter's written in this?' he said, and I was just barely able to suppress a groan as he began to open the diary.

'Hand it over, Malfoy' said Percy with his usual officious 'prefect manner' on. No bloody wonder Malfoy ignored that one. Percy really did take the prefect thing too far at times.

'When I've had a look' said Malfoy, waving the diary around. It was like a neon sign to my horrified eyes as it slid through the air. I was terrified that he would open it and see what it was. There was plenty of my ink in there and I was sure that Tom could 'appear' if he wanted to. What if he told all these people what I'd said! How much worse than a Valentine would that be?

Thankfully, Harry's instincts kicked in and he managed to get the diary back off Malfoy. This still wasn't ideal but at least he was better than Malfoy having it. I sighed in relief as everyone began to file into my classroom. But I hadn't reckoned with Malfoy, who launched a parting shot at me

'I don't think Potter liked your Valentine much!'

I was mortified. I caught sight of Harry's face as Malfoy said that and the resignation on it was far too much for me to bear. I buried my face in my hands and ran into the classroom just to get away from them. All of them. Yes, that included Harry. He had been part of the group and he had looked at me like I was a pain. For the first time since I'd met him I really didn't want to see him ever again.

I decided fast that I needed to get into Harry's dormitory and steal the diary back before he could find out how to use it. But how was I to do that? It had to be a time when no-one was in either the dormitory or the common room. I wished I had Harry's fabled invisibility cloak as that would make the whole process much easier. But I didn't and I had to be sure that it would be empty before I got the diary back.

I figured that the next quidditch game, which wasn't too far away, would be a good time. But fate was able to allow me in earlier than that. Always on my guard for an opportunity I saw that during a practice for that match the common room was much quieter than usual and during one practice time I finally noticed that I was the only one in there. My heart thumping erratically in my chest I tiptoed out of the room and up the stairs. Thankfully there was no-one in the dorm room either, and in my haste to look quickly I think I trashed Harry's things. But I couldn't take the time to do it neatly because someone could come up any time. I finally found it and tucked it under my robes none too soon. I got to the landing between the boys and girls dormitories and found myself confronted with Neville Longbottom coming up the stairs. He greeted me cheerfully and I smiled at him and pretended to have come out of the girls' rooms until he had got into the boys' Then I carefully got myself back into the girls' dorm and leaned against the door waiting for my heart rate to slow back to normal. At least my diary was safe; at least Harry wouldn't be affected by it now.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7: What's Happened?

'Tom, Tom. I was so worried when I saw Harry with your diary. Tom? Are you there?'

'What are you doing, you silly little idiot?'

'Tom? What do you mean? I saw Harry had your diary. I wanted to be sure he didn't find out what I've told you. I was scared, Tom.'

'Don't worry, Ginny. What we share is our special secret. Harry need never know we've been talking. We talked about other stuff, me and him.'

'You talked to him, Tom? Isn't he amazing? He's so brave and interesting. So cool.'

'Yes, he is very interesting indeed. So many things done for so young a boy …'

And so our conversations went on and on. Tom wooed me back and for a time it was all wonderful. He was, if possible, even more interested in talking about Harry but I figured that was just because he knew him now. By a horrible twist of fate throwing that diary away and retrieving it back from Harry gave me more confidence in it and in Tom. So my writings in it got more and more deeply into my psyche and I can tell you that with Tom's help and encouragement I found some really dark places in my mind. I delved deep into that part of me that I had kept hidden even from myself, and some of the things I found there still have the power to make me cry with the horror of it all. That was just about the worst time in my life. I had plumbed the depths of myself and couldn't think of any way to drag myself back out again. This was the time when my brothers tried hardest to cheer me up with tales of what they would do to the person responsible for the attacks. But of course that didn't help me at all. I was more than just suspicious of myself, I was almost certain. But I figured I could keep a good enough hold of myself to prevent it happening again. Unfortunately, slowly but surely, I lost that grip on myself once more. Tom had me finally convinced that I was worthless, useless to anyone, that Harry would never want me and that I was the most unpopular kid in school. I wasn't spending any time with Luna these days and that just made me sure that he was right. Clearly nobody else liked me either and so it was obviously no use me reaching out to anyone but Tom. Tom was my friend; he was the one who was going to keep me safe and happy. I didn't need anyone else. I had Tom.

I shudder when I think back to those days because he really did have me where he wanted me. It wasn't long before I lost myself fully again, and in the moment that I slipped under his power once again he was able to use me for the worst attack yet. I woke up to myself and realised that I was once again somewhere I hadn't been before and I was ruffled and felt strange. It was all the same symptoms I'd felt when the other attacks had occurred, and I became stressed, almost sick with the worry of what might have happened.

We were all herded away from the quidditch game that had been about to take place and into the common room by McGonagall, then she went away again. I was even more convinced this had something to do with me since I always went to the games just to see Harry play. If I had missed this one there must have been a reason, and I was worried about what that could be. Harry and Ron weren't there, but McGonagall soon returned and they were with her. Their faces were so white that I knew instantly something really bad had happened.

'Hermione' groaned Ron a little later. 'Why Hermione?'

I shrank down into myself, clutching my arms around my middle. Ron's pain was clear in his voice and in his manner, and I knew it was probably me who had caused it. Harry, too, looked white and drawn and I wished I could just go back and undo the attack, but I couldn't. And now I had to live with the knowledge that I was the one who had put that look onto Harry's face. And Ron's.

I made up my mind and decided I was going to tell them. I had to step up and actually take responsibility for what was going on. Hermione was so important to Harry and Ron, and the fact that I had attacked her … the fact that I had hurt my friends finally pulled me away from the influence of the diary enough to know that I had to tell someone and let them know what was going on. I finally steeled myself to do it at breakfast one morning, sitting down next to Harry and Ron and twisting my hands nervously. Now that I was in the moment it was hard, so hard to bear the looks that I knew would come over their faces. Ron didn't help; he was as oblivious as ever but Harry was paying careful attention to me (and how that would have thrilled my heart any day but that one!). Avoiding his eyes because they were too kind, too caring, I mumbled 'I've got to tell you something.'

'What is it?' he asked eagerly. I opened and shut my mouth, trying to find a way to say it that would make it less terrible but I couldn't find any.

Ron said '_What?_' in a really grumpy, annoyed voice. My heart plummeted. If he was this annoyed now, how bad was he going to be when I actually said it? Harry had been watching me even more carefully. He leaned forward and asked in a very soft voice 'Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?'

The gentleness of his voice, and the way he was looking at me, calmed me down, and I opened my mouth to tell them what was going on, that it was me. In that moment I was sure Harry, at least, wouldn't condemn me, and that was enough for me. But also at that precise moment Percy turned up. And there was no way I could say it in front of Percy. Not the officious perfect prefect who had never put a foot wrong. I leapt up and dashed off, terrified that Harry and Ron would make me say it in front of him.

When I got back to my dormitory I pulled out the diary, desperate to rid myself of its power once and for all. I was determined to tell Tom I knew what was going on and that I was going to stop writing to him.

'I can't do this anymore Tom. I know it's you who's done this to me, and I know I'm the one who has been attacking students. I'm going to stop now Tom. I can't hurt anyone else.'

'You're not going to stop you silly little witch. You _will_ carry out my plan.'

'I won't Tom, and you can't make me anymore.'

'Oh can't I?' he said, and I felt myself slide into some sort of compulsion. I struggled of course; I didn't want to do this. But I had poured so much of myself into that diary that I was unable to fight against him for long. Weeping silent tears I walked down the stairs and out into the wider school. My deep self was screaming out against what was happening but my feet still moved of their own volition towards my doom.

I smeared terrible words on the walls in blood, words that I knew would rip the hearts out of my family, but that I couldn't stop myself from scribbling out. I could feel myself getting weaker and weaker as I did it and then was forced downwards to the Chamber of Secrets itself. By the time we got down there I was so weak I was almost unable to walk. I felt myself tip face forward onto the floor and lie still, but I could still see, still hear everything and one of the most grotesque things I had ever seen was happening right in front of me. Out of the diary, which I had been forced to bring down with me, was growing a ghostly shape. He was handsome and well dressed in his school robes but he had a terrible sneer on his face.

He told me that he was growing strong off my soul. He stood over me and looked down at me with that horrible sneer and his voice was cold and terrifying. I couldn't believe that _this_ was Tom, the boy I'd been talking to all year.

'Tom?' I whispered.

'Yes, it's Tom Riddle. Or you might know me by my other name: Lord Voldemort. Oh yes, Ginny Weasley' for my eyes had managed to widen in fear at those words. 'I am that most feared wizard your beloved Harry Potter defeated as a small child. I have used you to lure him here to his death. I want to find out why he was able to defeat me. I want to know how a baby drove away my powers. And then I will kill him. Once I know, he will die. You have been instrumental in getting him here to me and once you have given me all your soul you will die and I will be powerful enough once more to destroy him.'

And he laughed a high, horrible laugh and watched as the tears leaked out from my eyelids.

'Yes, Ginny Weasley. You can be proud. Your little crush was just what I needed to help me destroy Harry Potter.'


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 8: The Chamber of Secrets

I began to fight back. I fought long and hard. I knew I was fighting for my very existence. Yes, Tom had beaten me down, got me to a point where I almost didn't want to exist anymore. But he'd made a huge mistake with that last statement. Threatening Harry was the one thing guaranteed to make me fight back. There was no way I wanted to be used to get to Harry again. He was too important to me, and it's only because Tom Riddle had no capacity to understand love and friendship that I was given the power to fight as long as I did. I'm sure that in other circumstances, if he hadn't been foolish enough to tell me he was luring Harry there, I would have given in far more easily, and Tom would have truly become memory made flesh.

As it was he was incredibly frustrated by me. I saw him emerging from the book and the sight of him solidifying was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. In fact I think it was _the_ most terrifying right up until the day 5 years later when I saw Hagrid emerge from the forest and knew that all hope was now lost. But that's a much later story. The vague, ghostlike shape of Tom Riddle sliding out of the diary shocked me in a way that nothing else had done. I knew that he was growing strong off me, off my soul. He had explained it all to me once I was so far under his power that I couldn't do anything of my own volition. I think he did that to make me more scared and give him more to feed off. I struggled mightily against it; I was terrified that I would let him win and that he would then obliterate Harry as soon as he arrived in the Chamber. So I put all my energy into holding on, just holding on for a few moments more to that inner core that made me 'me.'

However, hard as I tried to maintain my sense of self, I could still feel the energy slowly draining out of me, feel the ghost shape of Riddle growing stronger. But, connected as we were, I could also feel his anger and frustration that I wasn't giving in faster. He wanted to be fully alive, fully solid, before Harry got there. How he knew Harry would be the one to come I don't know, but I felt it too. I knew he would finally be that knight in shining armour I'd been craving for so long. All I had to do was keep fighting; how could Harry save me if I allowed myself to be lost before he got there? I had to help him defeat Riddle, and the only way I had to do that was to hold on to every ounce of myself so that Riddle wouldn't be fully flesh when Harry did come. Every piece of me I held on to was a piece of me that Riddle hadn't got his hands on. I had to be strong so Harry would have a weaker force to fight against. So, every time I felt a piece of myself go I drew my strength together to hold on to the next.

It wasn't long, however, before I couldn't move at all, not even my eyes. But still I held on to my sense of 'me' for as long as I could. Finally I heard the voice I both yearned and dreaded to hear.

'_Ginny_! Ginny! Don't be dead! Please don't be dead!' and somewhere, somehow I felt him grab my shoulders and move me to my back. I wanted to reassure him that I was still alive and still fighting, but all my effort was concentrated on keeping that core of me protected from Riddle. I could hear Harry's voice getting increasingly desperate as he shook me but my consciousness was disappearing and I couldn't hear the words he was saying with any clarity. As I slipped away into unconsciousness I kept as firm a hold on my inner self as I could. And at least I had the warm knowledge that Harry was here now and if I kept fighting I was no longer alone in my battle.

I floated in an unknowing state for I don't know how long; I know I wasn't conscious but I still held tight to that tiny core that was 'me'. Suddenly, without warning, I felt as if I'd been hit with an enervating charm and 'me' became 'more me'. I still wasn't fully myself but I could feel 'me' slipping back inside, feel myself waking up. I was once again aware of what was going on and I could hear footsteps pounding towards me. And all that time I could feel myself getting stronger. It was over, I had done it. I had held onto 'me' long enough to make the difference.

I was able to sit up, shakily I admit, but I was sitting up. I was still a little disoriented and looked around the Chamber as if I was seeing it for the first time. And in a sense I was. When we had got down there I was so weak, had lost so much of who I was, that I was unable to really take in what I was seeing. So now my eyes travelled all over the Chamber taking it all in and pausing at the huge snake that was lying dead in the middle. I shuddered as I realised this was what I had set loose on the school. This was the evil I had allowed to attack even my friends.

Then my eyes came to Harry and he looked so bedraggled, so wrung out that my heart clenched. All those times I had hoped for him to sweep in and rescue me, and now he had. All my illusions were swept away though. Being rescued was not romantic at all. Poor Harry was not dashing in with a funny quip and swearing everlasting love. He was covered in blood and looked like he had run a marathon just to be there. It broke my heart that I was the one who had got him in that situation. As I saw the mutilated diary in his hand it became just too much. I started crying in big shuddering sobs.

'Harry – Oh Harry – I tried to tell you at b-breakfast but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy. It was me, Harry – but I – I s-swear I d-didn't mean to. R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over – and – _how_ did you kill that – that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I remember is him coming out of the diary –'

Harry was so sweet right then. He ignored his own pain and fatigue because he saw how worried I was. He held up the diary, a tired but proud smile on his face, and reassured me.

'It's all right. Riddle's finished. Look! Him and the basilisk. C'mon Ginny, let's get out of here –'

Harry being so nice was my final downfall. Tears still leaking from my eyes, embarrassed that he was seeing me this way, I began wailing in earnest.

'I'm going to be expelled! I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and – _what'll Mum and Dad say?_'

I was terrified, now it was over, of facing Dad and telling him I had ignored all his warnings to such terrible cost. It wasn't even really expulsion that concerned me right then. But I hooked onto the idea because I couldn't admit to Harry right then the depths of my horror over what I had done. But I think that he knew somehow.

Harry had no idea how to respond to my impassioned sobbing, so rather than saying anything else he did the 'boy thing' and got helpful instead. He awkwardly pulled me to my feet and got us out of that terrible place. We stumbled down the rocky tunnel together, with him supporting me because in my terror I wasn't able to walk or think straight.

I need to take a minute now to talk about what being in the Chamber with Harry right then really meant. It may spoil the story a little for some of you, but I figure most people who are reading this will have also read the official Harry biography and will know this anyway.

As I've said before that year was the darkest of my life, and yes that even includes my terrible 6th year when Harry was off fighting Voldemort and I was at school sick with worry over him, and had to see him dead at the end of it. And of course the culmination of this year of terror was what happened in the Chamber. I was literally fighting for my very life and so, as I found out a few hours later, was Harry. So, that was the first connection we forged down deep underground. There is something primal and intimate about literally fighting for your life alongside someone else, and it does truly bond you in a visceral way. I may have been unconscious at the time but Harry and I shared that deadly struggle together and so it is something that will always be between us.

The other connection is far deeper. If I had my time again I would have avoided this one, it's true, but since it happened I can't deny the power of it. I'm talking, of course, of a fact that we realised only years later: that both of us were in a battle down there against a piece of Voldemort's soul inside us. Somehow, since we were both in the same struggle in the same place at the same time, we were bonded together. I know it's not something I was truly aware of for many years, but Harry tells me he felt it too. I do know that we were mostly on the same wavelength after that. I knew how he would react to any given situation, and at times I even almost knew how he was thinking. Oh, don't get me wrong; I'm not talking about mind reading, or bonded souls or any of that other new age crap that muggles go on about. No, it was just a deep awareness of each other and a mutual understanding of what it's like to fight for every tiny ounce of yourself against something evil residing inside you, and while it's not something I'd wish on anyone, what happened to both of us down there was primal and powerful.

I may have hated that time, I may have endured far more than I'd want any 11 year old, or anyone at all really, to suffer through, but it was great that I was able to share some of that terrible time with Harry. He _was_ and still is the only other person, as I learned later, who could really understand what it was like to have Voldemort cosying up in your head. And while we don't talk about it much, and we both remember it as a time of terror and agony, yet I am glad we share this one bond that no-one else does. We are truly soul mates in a way no-one else has been or ever will be. And that alone makes my struggle that year worth it.

You know, it still never fails to amaze me that Harry was able to spend 16 years of his life with that thing attached to him. He is a little more mellow now, a little less prone to angry outbursts for no reason, but on the whole he has remained pretty much the same person he was all through high school when I knew him. Which means that he was able to keep himself remarkably untainted by the evil that lived in him, and that he didn't even know he needed to fight against. Given my own experiences down in that Chamber I think he is an amazingly good person despite all that life has thrown at him. He fought for the majority of his life against an evil in him that he wasn't even aware of and suffered all manner of dreadful abuses at the hands of several people and he still didn't succumb to being evil himself. Goodness! Look at me getting all mushy and soppy here again. But it's true you know. He may scoff at it himself but he really is one of a kind, unique even for a wizard. I may be in love with him, but this one time I think if you think about it carefully you'll find that it's not just fond exaggeration by the wife.

But all this loving perspective was a long way off that day deep underground. I was still incoherent with grief and fear as we made our way down that tunnel and came to the place where rocks had fallen in, blocking our way out. My not-so-useless brother had done a good job of removing enough of the barrier to allow us to get through, however. Harry called out to him that I was safe, that I was OK. Rom excitedly pulled me through the gap he'd created and tried to hug me. But all my feelings of being unworthy and my guilt and shame welled up and I held him off, fresh tears rolling down my face.

'But you're okay, Ginny. It's over now' Ron tried to comfort me but it just made it all seem worse. Thankfully, my saviour came to my rescue again, promising to tell Ron all about it later. I smiled at him weakly and was rewarded with a heart stopping smile in return. He quickly organised us all, including a bemused Professor Lockhart, to hitch a ride with Dumbledore's phoenix. I was pleased to be out of course, but my terror over facing Dumbledore and Dad and admitting to what I'd done was increasing by the minute.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9: Aftermath

The closer we got to McGonagall's office, the more stressed out I became but I did my best to hide it from the others. I didn't want them to know I was so weak. Harry knocked on the door after one glance around at the rest of us. Then he pushed the door open and we were all framed, silhouetted in the door and in my terrified state the moment seemed frozen in time. Suddenly, breaking in on my terror, there was a bloodcurdling scream. I jumped a little before realising it was just Mum and she was rushing towards me along with Dad. I squirmed under their hugs and joyous murmurings, knowing that in minutes, seconds even, they were going to hate me. I didn't want to see them push me away so I tried to push them away first. Mum, looking puzzled, let go and rushed off to hug Harry and Ron and thank them for saving me. Harry slid a glance sideways at me and seemed to understand exactly why I felt the way I did. He smiled conspiratorially at me, and I did feel a little better after that. It seemed Harry, at least, might be in my corner.

'You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?' Mum was warbling excitedly at Harry and I heard McGonagall's sardonic voice

'I think we'd all like to know that'

So Harry began to talk and the more he spoke the more amazed I got at what he and Ron had got up to. I was also almost undone by the depth of their worry over me, too. That they did so much to find me, that _Harry_ did, both made me zing with joy and quiver with the terrible knowledge that I didn't deserve to be 'saved' … my knight in shining armour would never have had to ride in if I hadn't been so mortifyingly stupid.

Even amid my shame and the still profound fear that I would be expelled or put in Azkaban or any number of other things done to criminals I still noticed that Harry was very delicately shielding me in his version of what had happened. He had yet to mention the diary, and even though I had finally allowed Mum to pull me close, stroke my hair and whisper kind words to me I was still tense waiting for the moment when I would be 'outed' as the big evil person who had perpetrated this offence. I saw Harry falter in his story and carefully glance at me, and I could tell it was coming, soon everyone would know that it was all my fault. Fresh bursts of tears stormed down my face at the knowledge of what people would think and say about me.

The Dumbledore spoke from over beside the fireplace and his voice was very gentle and kind as he looked at me.

'What interests me most, is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania.'

Mum started babbling about me being enchanted, and I could see a look of the hugest relief cross Harry's face and that warmed my heart even more than knowing that Dumbledore knew and didn't blame me. Harry had been worried about how the others would take my part in the story too. He had been so kind to me and hadn't even quivered when I told him I'd done it, but he was worried for me how the others would react. This proved at least once thing to me. He at least saw me as a friend of sorts. My heart which had been dragged away from him by Tom Riddle was now fully reawakened to his glory.

My attention was caught once again by the conversation around me. Mum and Dad wanted to know how Tom Riddle had managed to enchant me for all that time. This is what I had been dreading, but after casting one strengthening look over at Harry, I took a breath and said

'His d-diary! I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year –'

Dad looked thunderstruck. He had after all told us all time and again not to trust anything if you couldn't see where it's brains were kept. He said as much again, but his voice wasn't angry or filled with hatred for me. Instead he seemed shocked and concerned. Still, I could see the pair of them winding up into another good old Weasley parent lecture and I wasn't sure if I could stand it. Dumbledore, who seems to know just about everything about just about everyone, headed them off and sent me off to the hospital wing with Mum and Dad. He even said I wasn't to be punished that 'older and wiser wizards have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort.' Oh the relief of hearing that. I was finally able to relax and be thankful that I had been saved, and that I had been brought back from the brink of death. Warmth spread over me and I smiled properly for the first time since my ordeal began.

I spent the night in the hospital wing with Mum and Dad. I was still weepy and shamed by what I had done. But Mum was very good; she cuddled me, told me it wasn't my fault, that no-one blamed me. But she was wrong on that score. _I_ blamed me. I heard everything they said about it not being my fault, and while it all made sense I could still hear Dad's words repeat over and over in my head. _I should have been more sensible, I should have …_ but it was useless to beat myself up about it anymore. All I could do was try to put it behind me and make reparation as best I could. I wasn't sure who I was meant to do that to, but I felt like it was right that I should try.

I was very thankful for one thing, however. By spending the time in the hospital overnight I managed to avoid the surprise feast that sprang up. The way people reacted to me over the coming days made me want to run away and hide under some rock til it all went away, and I was glad I had avoided it right in the moment. Obviously gossip had spread and everyone knew my part in the story. Or, even if they didn't know, they were spreading rumours about it which were possibly wilder than what had really happened. Harry must have noticed the way I was feeling because he approached me one day a few days after we came back from the Chamber. He sat me down on the steps in the Entrance Hall and parked himself beside me. On a normal day that would thrill me to my dramatic little toes, but today I had overheard some girls gossiping about me and was so miserable I sat looking at my hands and not really appreciating who I was with.

'It gets better you know'

'What do you mean?' Will you look at that! I actually spoke an entire sentence to him, and I wasn't even at death's door. Progress!

'The looks and the talking and the stares. It gets better. They give up after a while.' He looked at his hands as he said it, probably reliving that time during the year when the whole school was talking about him.

'I hope so' I said miserably. Then I broke out with 'How do you stand it? Being looked at all the time?' I blushed, knowing I was more guilty of that than most. 'That whole 'Boy Who Lived' thing; all the people watching you all the time?'

He looked sideways at me and smiled genuinely.

'It's not always so bad' he said. 'Anyway, like I said, when it's something like this it passes. They move on to new things soon enough. Just ignore it … hang in there.'

I nodded, feeling a little better. Not least because I had actually had a conversation with Harry without embarrassing myself. Progress indeed.

And so the year wound down finally. After talking with Harry I was able to see past the moment and live my life happily again. Taking his advice I ignored the whispers around me and soon enough they did die off. By the time we got on to the Hogwarts Express I was perfectly happy again, and I was also back in full-on hero-worship mode. Harry's words, the way he had looked sideways at me, had fired up my little girl crush again. I was still clumsy around him; I still blushed mightily when he was around and I still tripped over my tongue for the most part. But I was at times able to overcome my over eagerness and actually talk when he was around. A little. OK, sometimes. Alright then, just the once or twice. But it was definitely progress from where we had been at the start of that year. You have to at least admit that.

So, when I found myself in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with him (and Hermione and my brothers, apart from Percy the perfect prefect, of course) I was thrilled. Miss Dramatic made the most of this last chance to gaze adoringly at Harry during the journey. I am ashamed to be admitting to that after the conversation I'd had with Harry and the way I knew he hated being stared at and how horrid it had been for me. But Miss Dramatic scoffed and reminded me I'd never see him again for ever … or at least for several weeks. I had to take the opportunity while it arose.

He managed to ignore my adulation, or I wasn't as obvious as I thought I was, and we all had a great time. Exploding snap kept us amused for hours and we practised the one move we learnt from the duelling club on each other. We were all OK by the time we got to London, but Harry was doing great with it. He could disarm any of us before we could even react. After disarming me one last time he looked thoughtful and suddenly came out with 'Ginny – what did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?'

I'm proud to say that Miss Pragmatic was able to push Miss Dramatic to the back of the queue and answer him without a blush, with even a giggle of conspiracy.

'Oh, that. Well – Percy's got a _girlfriend_'

They all stopped what they were doing and started at me incredulously, I saw George's mouth drop to the ground just before Fred dropped some books on his head. Then we had a great time discussing the girl who would go out with him, and how upset he was when she was attacked. I noticed the look on the twins's faces, and since I knew them so well I grew alarmed.

'You won't tease him, will you?' I asked, and I didn't quite believe their 'no.' Still, all in all I look back on that train ride as a happy time. Poor Harry did look less and less happy the closer we got to the station and seeing his relatives on the platform I could see why. As I watched him walk off with them I felt real sorrow for him. After all he had done that year, for me and the school, he was going to that dreary place again with people who totally didn't appreciate him. Well, I'd just have to put my pestering skills to good use and make Mum invite him to our house again this summer. Yes, a nice visit with his friends would be just the thing …

_A/N So there you have it. That's the end of Ginny's first year. I may be a few days with her second year because it's not flowing as well as I'd like. It's on the way, but not quite ready yet. Sorry ___


	11. Chapter 11

**Section 2: Second Year**

Chapter 10: He Blew Up His Aunt?

So, as you'll recall**, **there I was with pretty much all my childish fantasies come true. I had met Harry Potter, I had interacted with him, he'd even stayed in my house. We were in the same house at school and I had even managed to need to be rescued by him. He may not have charged in like the romantic heroes of storybooks, but he had saved me in my hour of greatest need which was even better, although Miss Dramatic would sometimes sniff about how 'it should have been.' I should have been excruciatingly happy about my lot. Miss Dramatic should have been clasping her hands to her breasts (which were starting very slowly to develop) and swooning over all the ways in which Harry had fulfilled my every fantasy. But I _wasn't_ completely ecstatic about any of those dreams anymore. Oh yes, I still had the desperate desire to become Mrs Harry Potter at some undefined future date. I still enjoyed relishing all the memories of times we'd spent together (most of which I had been very much lips glued together, unable to speak a word and gazing adoringly, but ya know … I still treasured them up). But I wanted more; I wanted to be in that inner circle of his friends. I wanted to be a member of 'the Gryffindor Trio' as they were starting to be called amongst their peers. Of course if that happened we'd have to be renamed, but that was OK. So long as I was part of it, any new name would be fine even something as lame as 'the Gryffindor Quad'.

Still, since my longings for Harry had been brought a little down to earth (and wasn't Miss Pragmatic proud of that one!), I had a really great summer. Mum and Dad won a huge pile of galleons and instead of doing anything sensible with it, like I had secretly worried they would, they took us all on a family holiday to Egypt to visit Bill. While we were there I had so much fun that I didn't even think about the marvellous Harry Potter. Well, not more than 3 or 4 times a day anyway. Harry is reading this over my shoulder and he just smirked at me when he saw what I'd written there so I'll admit it. I'm lying. I thought about him pretty constantly; when we were deep in the old tombs of the Egyptian wizards I'd be thinking of Harry and how he'd love to see all this stuff with us. When we were eating the exotic foods I wished he was there to share it, even if it was just to moan that there was no treacle tart. I hated the thought of him in that horrid house with those dreadful muggle relatives of his while we were here having fun. Still, I consoled myself with the knowledge that he wouldn't want us to dwell in his sadness and made sure I enjoyed the trip. And yes, before you look at me like that again, I was completely justifying things to myself, finding reasons why it was OK to be happy even if Harry was enduring his horrific excuse for relatives. But in the event it was actually true. We found when we met up with him again that Harry really didn't mind that we'd been away while he was stuck in that place, in fact he seemed really happy for us. But since we didn't know it at the time, and anyway I was worried about him with those mean relatives, I bugged Ron until he remembered to send Harry something for his birthday. Ron swears he was going to buy him something anyway but I figured a little gentle sisterly pestering wouldn't hurt. I didn't feel close enough to Harry to send him something myself, but I wanted to be sure that he got something from our family.

The one really worrying thing that happened that summer was that I overheard Mum and Dad talking one day about a seriously deranged prisoner who'd escaped from Azkaban to chase after Harry. Mum and Dad were terrible at keeping secrets, you know. You may have noticed the amount of times during this memoir that I overheard some important piece of information or other that they were talking about. And if I overheard them you can be sure that Fred and George did too. They were the masters at that kind of thing, but honestly Mum and Dad made it far too easy. It almost wasn't worth doing. Anyway, I digress yet again. Sirius Black had done what no wizard in the past had ever managed: he had got past the dementors guarding Azkaban and was on the run. No-one was meant to know what he was after, but Dad worked at the Ministry and he had been warned, prohably because they knew we had interactions with Harry, that Sirius Black was making a beeline straight for Harry with the aim, they all assumed, to kill him.

It was less than a week after we had first heard the news of Sirius Black (and that I had kept to myself; I didn't want anyone else to share in this one snippet of knowledge that I had about Harry; I treasured knowing something about Harry that even Ron didn't) that the first reports of Harry himself began coming in. He was missing. He had blown up his aunt in Surrey and gone on the run himself. Of course my heart clenched in fear. Sirius Black was out there and he was after Harry and now Harry had put himself out into a vulnerable position where Sirius Black could find him. I knew Harry was reckless, of course I did. No-one sensible would have dived down into that Chamber after me. No-one cautious would have gone after the Philosopher's Stone. No-one careful would have marched into the Forbidden Forest after huge spiders. So it was no surprise to me that he had just gone off. I knew I should think he was terrible for doing those things. And yes, I was worried, I was terrified that he was out there with that madman hunting him down. But I have to admit I was really impressed by the blowing up his aunt thing. That made me giggle when I was alone to think about it. I could just imagine the picture: a gigantic woman bobbing on the roof of his house (which I imagined as one of those thatched cottages you see in picture postcards) with him storming out underneath her and his relatives freaking out behind him. I could picture the passion in his eyes and the determination on his face as he got out the door and was free.

Yes, I revelled in his recklessness. Something in me sympathised with the urge to just do something in anger and storm off. I think even then our temperaments were pretty similar. I was already breaking into our broom shed and stealing the boys' brooms one by one to practice flying on. I may have been interested in quidditch in the first place because of Harry, but I found that once I got on a broom I was entranced by the way it worked. I relished the feeling of being in the air, sailing above it all with the goal of the quaffle ahead of me, enchanted to fly. I thrived on the feel of the broom beneath me and the wind rushing past me. I lived for the thrill of chasing and I adored trying to beat someone else; it was intoxicating. Now, I know I wasn't playing against someone else at the time, but I pretended I was and I always, always strove to beat myself. Even back then I was pretty good; I have no false modesty about it. Quidditch is one of those things I have a natural talent for. Anyway, let's just say I really enjoyed quidditch once I discovered it and I wasn't going to let my brothers' ban on me playing with them stop me. So, yes. While I was fiercely worried about Harry I was also impressed with his guts. Later, we got a letter from Hermione freaking out about what he had done and how he really must learn to follow the rules a bit more and as much as I liked her I couldn't help rolling my eyes. Where was her sense of adventure and excitement? The thrill of the forbidden? Sometimes Hermione seemed to me to be altogether too straight laced to be a real Gryffindor. I mean, I know bravery is the defining characteristic and she was plenty brave. But … but I just assumed that Gryffindors also had that urge to push the boundaries, smash the rules and just go headlong into whatever they were doing. And Hermione just didn't have that … at least not then. Anyway, however a Gryffindor was defined I personally was always done in by a laugh. I wasn't the twins' sister for nothing so whenever the memory of Harry's aunt bobbing on the ceiling occurred to me I had a terrible urge to giggle … often in really inappropriate places. I should have been horrified by what he had done, but it was funny and anyway the Ministry had modified her memory and she was fine. So I laughed.

And of course it didn't take long before we were notified by the Minister himself that Harry had been found, that he'd caught the Knight Bus and was currently at the Leaky Cauldron. Now that his whereabouts were known and I was sure that Sirius Black hadn't got him and was unlikely to any time soon, I was able to really appreciate what he'd done. Suffice it to say that my hero-worship knew no bounds during the end of that holiday period. Harry is lucky he wasn't around. I'm pretty sure googly eyes and admiring glances would have followed him wherever he went. I may even have become as annoying as Colin Creevey. Thankfully for all involved I was kept away from him for the next little while. It wasn't until the day before we were due to catch the Hogwarts Express that we all went to Diagon Alley.

Eager as I was to see Harry again, I was also a little nervous as the time grew closer. This would be the first time I'd seen him in such a long while, and the memory of what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets still haunted me. What if after the time apart and time to think about it he finally resented me? After all, if it wasn't for me he wouldn't have had to be there anyway. I know he had been very good to me during and after our time there, but I wasn't yet so secure in his friendship to know how he would be after a little time to cool down and reflect on it. Plus, I still felt the need to make reparation. I figured it was Harry I owed most to, and I half had myself convinced that he felt the same way. That he would think I owed him a huge debt and he would resent the fact that I hadn't paid it yet. These were the thoughts I had as we all headed to Diagon Alley. I was so eager to see him again, but so worried as well. How was this meeting going to be? I did know I was going to do my best not to either come out with some inane 'omg, look it's Harry Potter' comment, or appear half dressed in front of him. It was time for me to get my act together and just … be normal when I met the boy of my dreams again, no matter how scared I was to see him.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11: The Leaky Cauldron

_Ok, here it comes. Take a deep breath. Act normal, he'll see you soon; we're almost there. I can see him. Breathe, girl. Just remember to breathe. You can do this._

Yes, sadly the thoughts that were flowing through my head right then were not of the most laid back nature. While I had promised myself I was going to act natural and cool around Harry this time when I met him, the sight of his black hair across the bar at the Leaky Cauldron had an immediate effect on my ability to walk, talk and think straight. Now that the moment was actually here to see him again I was petrified by the idea that he might hate me.

However, when we got closer and I actually saw him properly I could see he looked just as friendly as ever. There was a glint in his eye, though, that spoke of the fun he'd had being by himself in Diagon Alley for 2 weeks. Yes, we'd all heard the story: he had been taken in by the Knight Bus and delivered a few hours later, whole and well, to the Leaky Cauldron and allowed to stay there and in Diagon Alley until school came back. While I knew he should be probably told off for running away like that (especially after what I had overheard from Mum and Dad) I was rather taken by that glint of mischief that spoke of a boy who had been able to do what he liked for longer than he'd ever experienced in his life. He was perfectly lovely to me when he said hello, but all the memories of what had gone on between us last year raised to the surface of my mind and I was able only to blush my brightest red yet and mumble 'hello' back. I think I was possibly trying to break the world record for the most different colours of red one person can go around another. I'm not sure where the record stands right now, but I'm pretty sure I was right up there with the other champions, at least when it came to Harry.

Thankfully, Percy came to my rescue. I know that sounds strange but in being his usual pompous self when greeting Harry (it almost sounded like 'why hello there, old chap, fancy a cuppa tea, there's a good lad' when he said 'How nice to see you') that he made the twins take the mickey out of him good and proper. This pleased me for 2 reasons. First it took the heat off me in 2 ways because I'm sure my crush was still one of their favourite things to make fun of. And with the embarrassed hello and the bright red colour I had turned I had just given them ample ammunition for ages. But Percy managed to side track them wonderfully. They pushed him out of the way and greeted Harry in really off the wall crazy ways. Mum was livid as always, but they made me laugh and I suddenly felt much more at ease in Harry's presence. Mum was going on and on about Percy being Head Boy and what an honour and all that rubbish. She rounded it all out with a sour look at the twins and a wish that they had been made prefects so they could aim for that privilege too. George summed up nicely how I felt about the situation.

'What do we want to be prefects for? It'd take all the fun out of life.'

The revolted look on his face made me giggle and I wholeheartedly agreed. Who'd want to have all that responsibility when you could be having fun and making mischief? Yes, I was actually a very mischievous young lady back then. I may not have shown it when I was around Harry, and I was a bit immature at it as yet, but I enjoyed pranks about as much as the twins did. And, if I do say so myself, I was good at them too. Occasionally even the twins were impressed by something I'd done. Oh, wait. There goes another sidetrack. Ok, so the point I was making was that I was giggling over the twins' antics and their disgust for the prefect job, and I caught Harry's eye. He grinned back at me and I could tell he thought Mum and Percy were being a bit over the top about the whole 'Head Boy' thing as well. I mean, yes it was a great achievement. But honestly, did they have to go on about it to every one every time they saw them? Percy'd had the badge for weeks now and I was heartily sick of hearing about it. Thankfully, Harry seemed to share the sense of mischief over it and was soon rolling his eyes with the rest of us.

So after all that I did conduct myself relatively well. Or I did after I got over my silly shyness over seeing Harry for the first time again; no stupid comments or nightdresses in sight! I was definitely making progress. So dinner that night was a wonderful occasion. We had pushed several tables together in the parlour and had ordered the most enormous dinner. Mum, of course, had to critique it all from her 'professional' point of view, but luckily it almost all came out looking pretty good. I was relaxing more and more and while I may not have been talkative in Harry's presence at least I had got over not being able to say anything at all. There was always hope that one day we might be able to interact on an actual conversational level.

Next day I was also relatively fine with Harry. At breakfast Mum, Hermione and I were all giggling about a love potion Mum had made when she was younger. It hadn't had quite the desired effect Mum intended and she got rather … well … let's just say his embraces were very persistent even after she didn't want them anymore. I think this was Mum's way of making sure Hermione and I never did such a thing ourselves, which kind of annoyed me a little, but the story was funny and we were all rather giggly over it. I noticed Harry out of the corner of his eyes looking at us with a bemused expression on his face which of course got me to giggling more, imagining the boys's reactions if they were hit with love potions. Looking sideways at Harry I decided then and there never to use one myself. If I couldn't win him over on my own I wasn't the right one for him, and I wasn't going to lose my dignity trying to get him through false means.

Just then, mum got a right flap because she noticed the time and she began herding us out the door to the waiting ministry cars. We got to the platform in good time, however, and probably despite Mum's fussing rather than because of it. Dad took Harry through the barrier and then Mum made sure I followed quickly with Percy. He stood to attention and puffed out his chest as he noticed his girlfriend Penelope on the platform. He strode off in his most officious Percy manner and I once again caught Harry's eye and neither of us could help but laugh. I was imagining Percy's way of wooing and it almost made me lose the plot. I imagined poor Penelope putting up with Percy saying 'so, yes. I kissed you. How are you feeling about being blessed by a Head Boy kiss?' Not very mature of me, no, but Percy's manner had never endeared him to me and he was worse than ever with this Head Boy thing.

Anyway, we all finally got ourselves sorted out and stowed into the train with just a small diversion in the form of Dad taking Harry aside to talk to about something mysterious. I had a shrewd idea what it was given that I had overheard that Sirius Black was after Harry and I knew Dad wanted him on his guard even if Mum thought he was better off not knowing. I was glad Dad was taking the chance and telling him, even if I could see that Mum really didn't approve. I don't like to be kept in the dark about stuff that's related to me, and I don't think Harry does much either. Whatever they were talking about, Dad looked relieved when they separated and we all got on the train.

There was the usual mushy goodbye from Mum and this year I was feelings loads better than I was last year. I had Harry, Ron and Hermione to sit with and I felt it was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship. This was the time we were going to officially become 'the Gryffindor 4' (which really does sound cooler than the Gryffindor quad and would actually work really nicely as a team name if I could convince them to keep me on). Then Harry, of all people, ruined it for me. He muttered something to Ron and Hermione that sounded like 'I need to talk to you in private' and Ron, taking this idea up really quickly, far too quickly if you ask me, said 'Go away, Ginny' plummeting my hopes the final drop to the ground and showing me that I really wasn't important to any of them after all. Well, fine then! See if I care. I flung out a parting shot and stalked away down the corridor to find my friends, my real friends.

I petulantly whiled away the hours with Luna and Colin. I was happy to see them of course, but I was so peeved by Ron's attitude and the way Harry had said he wanted to talk to those two in private that I don't think I was the best company. Luna took it all very serenely of course. Nothing ever seemed to ruffle her feathers. She was so calm and at ease with herself that she had the effect of calming me down. Unfortunately Colin was at his most wired that day and so he fired me up again. All he could chatter about was the rumour about Harry having blown up his aunt and of course he bugged the heck out of me to try and figure out what the real story was since he knew we'd been together for at least part of the summer. I got a small glimmer of what life must be like for Harry with Colin following him around and I felt so very sorry for him.

After what seemed like hours, but not quite long enough to have got us all the way to Hogwarts the train slowed and then jerked to a stop. Colin and Luna decided to go out into the carriage and see what was going on and I followed them, still unwilling to be left alone since that day in the Chamber. As we were walking down the corridor the lights flickered eerily and then went out. People began to scream and jostle and in order to get away from the pushing and shoving that was happening around me I slid into the compartment I was standing next to. As I went to move in I crashed headlong up against someone coming the other way. Seeing stars I heard a voice coming from somewhere above me

'Who's that?'

She sounded familiar but I was too dazed to figure it out.

'Who's _that_?' I asked instead.

'Ginny?'

Oh, it was Hermione. She invited me in and said to sit down, so I did. For just a second I found myself on a squishy yet solidly comfortable knee. I caught a waft of clean boy smell: ironed shirts and musky body heat assailed my nose and even in the few seconds it took to realise my mistake I knew that smell.

'Not here! I'm here!' Harry said as I leapt up as if burnt, my face on fire yet again. Thankfully the depth of darkness in the compartment meant that no-one could see my shame and embarrassment. I couldn't believe I had sat on Harry's knee. He still teases me about it to this day, by the way, saying that I was very forward for such a shy young kid. I laugh and call him a prat and we smile fondly at each other. But at the time I thought the world might just end.

Suddenly an adult voice was booming through the compartment. He didn't sound panicked but there was a tone of such calm authority that we all obeyed him at once, silence falling on us completely. He was about to leave the compartment when the door slid open. We all held our breaths as the air became freezing around us, or it might be more correct to say that our breath was trapped in our throats. Something glided in and I began shuddering uncontrollably. Everything became horrific once again and I found myself vividly remembering my time with Riddle's diary. All the bad thoughts I'd ever harboured about myself rose to the surface and I closed in on myself. Dimly through my own experience I noticed Harry pass out and slide off the seat.

The teacher, for that was who I assumed he was, did something and made the thing glide away and slowly the warmth returned to the room and the lights flickered back on. I was still shaking but I was, though terribly slowly, coming back to my normal self. On the floor Harry was just beginning to stir. His face was white and he looked like he'd had a long illness and was just recovering. He looked about as shaky as I felt. It was clear by what he was saying that he was as confused about what had happened as I was. We both looked at each other and both could see that the other felt weak and somehow dirty that we had been so affected and the others hadn't. I wanted to talk to him, to say I knew how he felt but I was still so shaky and so close to tears that I just couldn't and he sat there looking so small and diminished. All in all I was really pleased when the train finally pulled in to Hogsmeade and we were able to take the carriages up to the castle.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 12: Conversations With Colin.

I tell you what. Miss Dramatic made a return during this year, and she was really, really happy with me and my idiocy. There was epic scope for her swooning and longing looks, blushes and impassioned sighing. And one of the best ways to get her to come out and play was to chat with one of my very good friends, Colin Creevey. Colin and I had a very odd friendship, which was probably a bit of a given considering that the way we had become friends was through our mutual appreciation of the stupendously marvellous Harry Potter. Last year we had been on equal terms in regards to him, with Colin possibly even slightly ahead of me because he was doing that 'I'm a cute annoying puppy dog' thing and tailing Harry every minute of the day. But this year, after the events in the Chamber and the fact that I'd seen him for a day or two in the summer, I was suddenly the one who was 'in the know' about Harry. It made me a little uncomfortable you know. Now that I was more closely acquainted with Harry, treating him like some kind of idol was becoming more and more weird.

I remembered back the way I was when he had first turned up at our house before I went to school and how I had realised finally that he was a real person not some cardboard 'cut out hero' and yet I had spent the majority of last year continuing to treat him as that cardboard cut out. No wonder he wasn't interested in being friends with me. Who would want to be friends with someone who can't see past the fame and glamour to the real you? It only really hit home to me just how badly I had behaved towards him when I had Colin constantly on my case asking me every question under the sun about Harry, none of them really relevant to who he actually was. The fact that I recognised some of those questions was, if possible, even more unbearable. 'What toothpaste does he use? Does he snore? What does his hair look like in the morning?' All those and more came back to me from Colin's mouthandI shuddered at the thought of how I must have sounded to my family. No wonder they teased me over Harry. I was truly unbearable if Colin was anything to go by.

Still, I did revel in some good old chats with Colin, the ones where we didn't fawn over him in some fan-girly crazed way. I did enjoy the more heartfelt normal conversations we had where Colin allowed me to talk to him of my hopes and fears about Harry. Of course there was one big topic of conversation across the whole entire school and while I didn't let on that I knew Sirius Black was after Harry, I did allow myself to talk of my fears about Sirius to Colin. Colin was unfailingly optimistic. He was like Luna in that way, and so he always made me feel a little better. I was never fully happy because of course I knew that Harry was being targeted by Sirius Black and I was really stressed about it. Colin was almost like my substitute diary that year. I wasn't going to ever be able to write in a diary comfortably again and yet there was so much inside me that I wanted to get out. You know, in thinking back on it, I've never done a diary or anything like a diary since then. I haven't been able to bring myself to pour my feelings out onto paper even though I check all my stationary very carefully now. In fact until writing this memoir I haven't put 'myself' on paper at all since then. I'm only managing this memoir now because I know that Harry is right here with me talking me through it. And it's been good, cathartic in a way. But it has taken me more than 20 years to get to this point. Back then Colin was my only means of 'getting it out there' and much as I hated myself for enabling his fan boy obsession I was able to just let myself do it because of what it gave me. Yes, I know it was wrong of me to do that. It was unfair to Colin and it was a terrible way to repay Harry's kindness to me but it was my one chance and I took it. When I looked back on myself in the pensieve I saw just how shallow and self obsessed I was back then. I cringed when I looked at it, but on reflection I don't think I really was any worse than other teenage girls. And at least I eventually grew out of it, and even if I could be horrible to others when it suited me I did have a good heart at my core.

On one such day I nestled myself down beside Colin on a bench in the Hogwarts courtyard and sighed heavily.

'What's up, Ginny?' he asked.

'Homework.' I snapped. And yes I was very snappy back then too; I had a fierce temper even then and while my anger was directed at the teachers, usually, I wasn't brave enough to let it rip at them. So my poor friends bore the brunt of it.

'Snape's essay is ridiculously hard and I don't even know where to begin on it.'

Colin smirked at me. 'I finished mine, and it's an inch longer than he wanted.'

'Well, good for you' I spat sourly. 'If you're gonna be all smug about it I won't tell you my gossip.'

'Gossip?' His eyes lit up. 'Really? About Harry?'

'Yu-huh. But you're so great at homework you don't need me to tell you, you'll be able to research it yourself.' I had got over my snappiness by now and was filled with mirth at his obvious eagerness to hear what I had to say and I couldn't help teasing him a little.

'Ginnnnyyyyyyyyy! Tell me!'

'Oh, all right! It's not that great anyway.' I giggled at his exasperated look. 'OK, OK. Trelawney predicted his death today.'

'No! Why? How?'

I shrugged. 'I dunno. But all his class are talking about it. They were reading tea leaves and she came out with his had 'the Grim' in it.'

'The Grim?'

'Oh, sorry Colin. I keep forgetting you don't know all this stuff. The Grim is a huge black dog. It's the biggest omen of death we have.' My voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. 'And, I also heard a rumour that Harry saw a big black dog the night he ran away from that muggle house he lives in, and you know he could easily have died that night, so it could have been the Grim for real.' Miss Dramatic was having a field day with this excuse to get all melodramatic and worried, and Colin was gratifyingly horrified and excited by my news. We canvassed the topic for hours, well not literally hours, but for the rest of that break we did anyway. I was able to talk about my fears for Harry's safety and worry that the evil Sirius Black, who we knew was on the run, was after Harry without letting on that I knew he was truly trying to catch Harry. By putting the death omen together with Sirius I could talk about my worry finally without having to watch my words too much. It was one of the best 'talk outs' I had with Colin.

And so things progressed that year. I didn't get to spend much time with Harry at all but I was able to indulge my romantic streak by talking with Colin and gazing in a rather disgusting love-struck way from across the common room, and yes I know I said I had realised the error of my ways and stopped treating him like a cardboard hero. Unfortunately my crush was still in full swing and cardboard or not I was still obsessed with the poor boy. So it was that I saw him puzzled and annoyed by the bickering between Ron and Hermione over their animals. Sometimes I sat myself close enough to the three of them to be able to hear their conversations. Again, this is not something I'm proud of but in my zeal I was eager to just spend a bit of time near him. And I was willing to do a fair amount to get close as well. If I tried to actually hang out with them Ron would tell me to piss off, so I was forced to adopt closet measures to be part of what they were saying.

On one of the occasions I was 'studying' near them I heard Ron and Hermione arguing over her cat. Scabbers, Ron's rat, had been looking very much off colour since the end of the holidays and Ron was very attached to him. So it was no surprise to me that Ron was very upset that Hermione's cat kept trying to eat him. I did kind of see Hermione's point of view too, but it surprised me that she was as off hand about Ron's feelings for his rat as she was. She hadn't struck me as the 'nature in all its glory, dog eat dog etc' type, and yet she was very blasé about poor Scabbers and the way Crookshanks kept attacking him. Harry was trying his best to keep out of it; having watched him surreptitiously for so long I knew he didn't want to antagonise either of his friends but I could also see that he really felt, as did we all I think, that Ron had the right of it on this one. Just then he looked up and caught me looking. He gave me a small half-smile and I quickly went back to studying my Charms homework. Whoops. I would have to remember not to get so caught up in what they were doing that I was seen to be actually looking at them.

Not long after thisthe whole castle was thrown into a state of near panic. No, the Weird Sisters weren't making a guest appearance, no we hadn't been told Lockhart would be back as teacher while professor Lupin had his little sick days off, we hadn't even been told we had to eat nothing but porridge for 2 weeks. No, what had happened was even worse. We were coming up the stairs to our common room after dinner on Halloween. Now, do you notice the way Halloween often intercedes with some kind of 'big' thing in our lives each year? If we count back we have Harry's parents being killed, in his first year he, Ron and Hermione were accosted by a troll in a bathroom, second year was the first petrification attack and this year … well yes, this year was big too. Come to think of it Halloween was big in _Harry's_ life … the rest of us just came to it by being on his periphery I suppose, one of the perils of being near him.. But how rude of me! I've gone off on another tangent and left you wondering what we saw as we clambered up to our portrait hole that day. Well, it was gruesome indeed. There was the fat lady's portrait as usual but she was no longer in the frame. And the reason why was very very clear. Her portrait was shredded. There were huge slashes all over the show and she was nowhere to be found. Peeves, the castle poltergeist who I had been trying to pretend didn't exist for over a year without much success, told us the tale with a huge amount of glee. It seemed that Sirius Black had managed to get into the castle and when the fat lady wouldn't let him into the common room without the passwords he became violent and slashed her portrait to the shreds we were looking at.

Dread clenched at my heart; all I could think of was the Grim Trelawney had seen in his teacup and I look one tiny glance at Harry to see how he was taking it. He looked resigned and apprehensive but not terrified, but I knew then that Dad had definitely told him that Sirius Black was after him. Harry seemed concerned, but not unduly, as Dumbledore herded us all down to the Great hall again to sleep. I was the one who was terrified and shaking. If the fool wasn't going to be worried for himself I would do it for him. It was the least a friend could do, right? Still again I admired his reckless ability to not worry too much about the future. It came, I guessed, from his background but 'living in the now' seemed an exciting way to be. And, after all, I was here to worry about the future for him.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 13: He Talked to Me!

Despite the dread I lived under for the next little while, nothing happened to Harry. The castle was thoroughly searched of course, but there was no sign of Sirius Black anywhere that night. So we went back to our usual lives but there were several stringent new security measures in place. The staff was determined not to allow another breach of the castle walls by Sirius Black. The dementors were rumoured to be beside themselves because Sirius had slipped through their fingers, so they were seen drifting horribly near the school gates, wanting, but not quite daring, to come inside the grounds. But for most of us life went on pretty much as normal. The most interesting thing on my mind was the upcoming quidditch game against Hufflepuff. Now that I had begun taking my brothers' brooms out for flies I was keenly interested in the moves and interchanges that made up the game. I watched the players closely as they zipped around, memorising the moves and planning how I was going to try them out next time I was at home. Harry was fascinating to watch and not just because I thought he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. He was a natural seeker. Even my unpractised eye could see that he was at home on a broom and had keen instincts that told him which way to fly and which way to go9 to find the snitch. I was so busy admiring the moves of all the players, and especially the way Harry was dodging Cedric Diggory as the snitch kept flittering about that I didn't notice the dementors until I was totally swept away in a burst of cold so terrible that I'm not sure how I managed to stay upright so long.

I did notice as I dropped that Harry had been overcome too and that he was heading for the ground with no visible support as his broom floated away in the distance. I think I may have screamed as I hit the ground myself because from where I was sitting it looked like certain death for him. It wasn't til several minutes later that I came around and was able to ask what happened. Fortunately no-one thought it was odd that I was asking about Harry. Everyone was talking about it. Apparently Dumbledore had pointed his fingers at him and he slowed down and just slid to the ground unconscious but still breathing. He was now in the hospital wing, and I wanted to go there too but I wasn't bad enough and was just given some chocolate and sent on my way.

I heard over the next day that Harry's broom had been swept away into the whomping willow and been smashed. I felt so sorry for him. I figured there must be something I could do to make him feel a little better about it. I remembered back to the really embarrassing time last year when I had sent Harry a singing valentine, and while I cringed with embarrassment at the memory I thought I could do something similar for him this time. If I made him a get well card he'd have to realise I was his friend right? And of course, I was a brave second year Gryffindor now. I could take it to him and give it to him personally. That would be just the best thing ever. I could have a conversation with him, alone with no other people around to spoil my fun. I did what I could and made a sweet little card with a picture of him on the front in a hospital bed looking down, and on it read the words 'get well soon, Harry' and inside 'I hope this cheers you up' and because I was trying out my fancy new spell work I added a singing charm that began when you opened the card up. It sang about how he was missed in the common room and how he needed to get better so we could all have him around again. It was really really corny but kinda sweet in a crazy fan girl type of way.

Once it was done I made my way up to the hospital wing and went in. Of course it wasn't a direct route I took. No, it was one corridor up, turn around and get almost back to the common room, get a little further then turn tail etc. In all it took me 5 tries to actually make it all the way up there and into the room where he was. He was sitting in bed looking very tired and wrung out. I knew he'd been told about his broom being destroyed and he seemed to be wrapped up in thought. I wasn't sure if it was over the broom or losing the game, but something made him look so sad and he was so small looking in that huge hospital bed that I overcame my hesitations and went right over to him.

'Hi Harry.'

'Oh hi Ginny' he said trying to smile at me and struggling to a sitting position.

'How are you?' Merlin, what an inanity! He's looking like crap, he probably feels like crap, why ask him that? But as I blushed a hideous shade of scarlet he just smiled at me.

'I'm fine. What've you got there?'

'Oh, um, well it's nothing, just … I made this for you … I thought you know, you seem down so I'd cheer you up.'

He was really lovely about it. He didn't laugh at me or turn his nose up or anything when he saw the less than brilliant artwork, and heard the (now I listened properly) very shrill singing.

'That was really nice of you' he said smiling at me again. 'It is a bit boring up here all alone. Madame Pomphrey isn't much company.' We both looked over to where she was fussing with some remedies and the way she bustled about reminded me so forcibly of Percy that I had to giggle. Harry joined me and he did seem a little happier when we gasped to a stop.

'I was watching the game you know. Before the dementors came you were playing so well.'

'Thanks' he said, looking a little dispirited again. I kicked myself for bringing it up, me and my stupid desire to talk about quidditch with someone who would understand.

'I heard about your broom' I said carefully. 'Is there any way to fix it?'

he showed me where he had all the bits and it was clear that it was never going to go back together again. I stared at it in horror. Thank goodness it hadn't taken him into the Whomping Willow with it. I said as much, and he nodded.

'I know. But … and this will sound silly, but I miss it. It was like a good friend to me, you know.'

I was thrilled to my toes that he had told me that. I was making real progress here. Not only had I managed to talk to him like a person, but he had actually told me something about himself. I settled in for a nice long haul of talking when unfortunately Madame Pomphrey decided Harry had better have some rest and that he'd had enough excitement for the time being. She scooted me out of there and I had no choice but to go.

Still, as I walked the corridors to get back to the common room I was satisfied with how it had gone. I was managing to actually talk to him now. Maybe sometime soon I'd be able to do it all the time. And then we could, you know be friends. I had given up on the really romantic dream of marrying him and having all his beautiful babies. But I hadn't given up on wanting to be near him and become one of his friends. Even if he wasn't the dashing hero of my story books he was still the most fascinating person I knew. His recklessness got him into so many scrapes and he had faced some horrific things so often that I was sure that the stories he could tell would be fascinating if I could only hear them.

Try as I might, however, as time went past I was unable to get up the courage to approach Harry again. For some reason when he was in the hospital wing I felt safer with him. When he came back to the rest of the castle there were too many people who might see and laugh at me for wanting to be friends with him. So I kept myself away from him and by Christmas time I still hadn't managed to talk to him as a human being again. I looked on in jealousy as Ron and Hermione stayed at school with him over Christmas and I was shunted back home with Fred, George and Percy. Don't get me wrong I loved being at home for Christmas. The Burrow was just about the most cheerful place you could imagine with all our Christmas traditions and memories. No, what annoyed me was that rather than invite Harry to spend time with us Ron had elected to stay back with him. I was pretty sire that with some Christmas cheer I'd have been able to talk to Harry but as it was I was doomed to only talking to Mum and Dad. We got the floo call from Ron sometime that morning just as we had finished opening our presents.

'Mum, Dad. Thanks for my stuff; the fudge is awesome Mum. You always make the best.' Ron's cheerful voice came out of the fireplace. I could hare a voice in the background and Ron said 'OK, OK I'll tell her. My heart leapt because it was obviously Harry. I sighed, so close and yet so far! 'Mum, Harry says to say thanks for the jumper and the treats. He loves it all. He's wearing the jumper right now.'

He half turned and listened to something behind him.

'Oh, yeah, and guess what! Harry got a firebolt. A real firebolt for Christmas, Dad.'

'He did? Who sent it?'

'Well, we dunno, there was no card, but isn't that the coolest present ever?'

'Yes, very cool' said Dad, looking troubled. After a few more minutes and lots of happy tears from Mum they signed off. Dad immediately got on the floo again and called McGonagall. He wasn't able to get hold of her til after lunch, however.

'Minerva? I think we have a problem. Harry has received an anonymous firebolt for Christmas.'

'Yes, I know. Miss Granger has just told me. We have taken it to be stripped down and tested for any major jinxes.'

'Who could have sent it?'

'Well, we think this might be another attempt at attack from Sirius black.' We all gasped, and turned the idea over in our heads. Christmas had just had a chill wind blow over it. I had forgotten for the time being how much danger Harry was in, but here we saw just the lengths to which Sirius Black might go to regain power for You Know Who. And Harry was at the heart of his plot. My Christmas lunch suddenly felt heavy in my stomach and I almost wished I had never heard of a firebolt broom.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14: Time Shifts.

By the time we got back to school things were in a bad way between Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry and Ron were furious at her for the way she had ratted them out on the firebolt. I must say, while I understood her impulse and approved anything that kept Harry safe, I was flabbergasted by the sheer horror of stripping down a really great new broom like that. I had known of course that Hermione was less interested in quidditch than the rest of us, and so she didn't understand the importance of a good broom. But I had never thought she could be so casual about something that important. It was a firebolt! I was definitely on the boys' side on this one, too. But I don't think Hermione was being deliberately nasty, either. In fact it was coming to my attention that she was not looking too good lately. She was prickly even with people she wasn't that close to and seemed to be studying every hour of every day. I was moderately worried about her but to my shame I didn't pay too much attention to her.

Two things of note happened in Harry's life during this time. First, he learned to produce a patronus. You know, one of those really cool silvery protectors that are all the rage these days. Well, back then most of us had never heard of them and so when Harry shot one at those gits who came to the next quidditch game pretending to be dementors we were all shocked and surprised. I was watching as the 'dementors' turned up because I was terrified of what had happened as Harry fell off his broom last time, so I was one of the first to see Malfoy and his mates trip and fall over themselves and their costumes. The looks of terror on their faces as they fell down were so priceless that I still grin happily when I remember it. I know it's not nice to laugh at other people's misfortunes, but you know they _were_ trying to sabotage Harry. It was fantastic to see him beat them at their own game, and of course knowing how to do that patronus was a huge deal for a 13 year old. My adoration knew no bounds after that incident.

The next thing to happen wasn't so good though. For once Harry wasn't the centre of attention but rather Ron was. The whole school was in a thrilled panic again: Sirius Black had broken into the castle again and had attacked Ron in his bed. Ron's shouts as he woke up scared him off and everyone was once again mystified as to how he had got in. I wasn't so much mystified as terrified for my brother. This time Harry wasn't uppermost in my thoughts, possibly for the first time since I met him; but Ron, who was getting attention for the first time, was revelling in the retelling of the tale. There were puzzling things about the incident, like why Black hadn't gone after Harry and why he scarpered, but I wasn't focussed on them. To me it was terrifying and for the first time I had an inkling that by being friends with Harry we were actually all in danger too. It scared me, but I wasn't really interested in it too much at the time. I was too young to really understand exactly what that might mean, so I was able to easily dismiss the idea from my thoughts.

The rest of the year passed quickly and the only other real drama was the continued isolation of Hermione from the other two. As well as the huge amounts of study she seemed to be doing and the anger over the firebolt from the boys a final blow appeared to have been dealt to the friendship when Ron's rat was found missing presumed dead and eaten. Now Ron, being a Weasley, was blessed with a modicum of temper as well as the rest of us. His wasn't as fiery but when roused it could be awesome in its magnificence, and this attack on his pet was taken as proof that Hermione didn't care. I know I've been siding with the boys a lot this year, and I know that some of it was because of my feelings for Harry, but really Hermione wasn't very respectful of Ron's feelings here. Just because there was no proof that her cat ate Scabbers, she could at least be open to the idea that it was possible. But she ridiculed him for his thoughts and I really think it's no wonder that he wasn't talking to her. I also witnessed a furious argument between her and Harry who was only trying to help in his very incompetent way. I felt sorry for him when she hissed at him about siding with Ron. All he'd done was point out that it was likely that Crookshanks had killed Scabbers, just as we all thought. Once again I had that urge to stand up beside him and voice my agreement but once again I was too scared to do it. Remembering all those months ago to Draco Malfoy at the bookshop I just couldn't bring myself to being laid open to those kinds of insults again. I could not bear the idea of Harry smirking while I was labelled his girlfriend. Before you say it, yes I know Harry wouldn't have done that. He would be both too mortified himself and too kind to allow it to happen, but in my nightmares that's what I saw and I was unable to back him up.

Sometime later they all made up their differences, however, and I was glad. Watching them from afar as I did it was clear that none of them was truly happy when not friendly with the others. That was a trait that was to remain with them and in fact still does to this day. If Harry can't spend some time with Ron and Hermione each week he gets restless and grumpy, and if they're fighting for whatever reason (and they do still fight about silly, crazy things at times) he gets really antsy. But back then this was the first time I'd really seen them all upset with each other and it was so painful to watch. So now that they were happy together again I felt happier too. That was crazy, I know, but I wasn't yet at an age where I could appreciate that a good friendship is not always happy and without fighting and recriminations. I truly thought their friendship was all over, so having them back together was an enormous relief to me.

Anyway, something happened. Something big. I've heard all about it of course since then and I've read Harry's version of it in his biography. But it's still very confusing to me as to what went on and how it could have happened. First, and I guess most obvious, was that Hermione had been given a time turner at the start of the year. No wonder the poor girl looked so stressed. She was up against it all year. She had been taking every class on the schedule and of course had homework for all of them. She had plenty of time what with the time turner and all, but even so she was dealing with very long days and no more sleep than normal. Now I know some of you are tapping your feet impatiently wanting to know what on earth Hermione's timetable had to do with me and Harry. And the short answer, of course, is nothing much. At this time in our lives we really had very little to do with each other, and while that may have wreaked havoc on my poor little heart and resulted in lengthy conversations with Colin, it was moderately inevitable really. I hung around the three of them as much as I dared, and I did my covert spy thing when I could get close enough, but basically we lived separate lives. Still, that timeturner was hugely important in Harry's life that year and as it cleared up a lot of the Sirius Black issue I'll give you a quick run down of what it looked like from my point of view. I do have to say I was incredibly confused by it all. At the age of 12 none of it really made any sense and so my imagination conjured up some weird images out of the story.

In covert mode one day I managed to overhear the three of them discussing that Hagrid's pet hippogriff Buckbeak was about to be executed. They were all in a right state and in fact so was I a little. Poor Hagrid I really liked him. He'd been very kind to me in my loneliness last year and I still visited him occasionally. We hadn't, of course, had a class with the hippogriff since it had so spectacularly failed to kill Draco Malfoy in Hagrid's first lesson. But I had met Buckbeak a few times that year and I kinda liked that stately old thing. So it was that I paid special attention to what Harry and the others were saying. I was in super covert mode that day I can tell you. I hung as close to them as I could for as long as I could. I tried to follow them down to Hagrid's hut but I was interrupted by Colin again and by the time he'd finished with me they were long gone and I figured my covert plot might go astray if I was, you know, caught by them. It wasn't at all that I didn't want to see Buckbeak die, not at all. Definitely the fear of capture. Definitely. And I also figured that if Buckbeak _wasn't_ executed then it would just be a normal visit to Hagrid's and I could do that any old time.

So it was that while Harry, Ron and Hermione were caught up in one of the most intriguing times we've had at Hogwarts I was sitting in the common room like a good girl and studying my transfiguration for a quiz we were having next day. So, Harry was confronting Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack and I was studying how to turn turtles into snuff boxes, and then Hermione was unmasking Professor Lupin as a werewolf while I practised making animals into wine goblets. I do have to say that while I was hearing this tale later I was convinced that Sirius Black was a madman, and that Lupin must have been helping him all along. Clearly Harry must have used his super hero powers to get them out of the dangerous situation. Yeah Ok, go on and roll your eyes. I was 12 and I had very little perception. I didn't notice the way Harry's voice went rough with emotion as he talked about Sirius, and I didn't understand the smile that played around his mouth as he talked about the day. To me black was black, Sirius Black must be guilty and so Harry, even if he was becoming 'more real' to me these days, _must_ have done something to get them out of there. The events in the Chamber of Secrets kept intruding back into my mind and I guess I romanticised the whole situation. So when he revealed the truth, that Sirius was innocent and had been framed and that they all just walked out of there together I was shocked and found it almost hum drum. I didn't realise at the time the depth of the intrigue that had gone on that night. The fact that Scabbers, our pet of 12 years, was revealed to be an evil animagus just didn't interest me. And that Snape tried to get Sirius killed was just 'oh well, who cares?' To me, who had always had a loving family surrounding me, I didn't really understand the depth of Harry's feelings over finally finding someone who was almost related to him. Sirius was his godfather and Harry was so happy, and yet to me it was just something to gossip about with Colin. Yes, before you say it I was terribly lacking in finesse and subtlety at that time. I wish I had in this one instance understood Harry, but it passed me over. All those other things I shared with him, the way I could sense his moods and know what he might say ahead of time … none of it mattered right then because of the depth of my disappointment that Harry hadn't played the hero again. I've seen the pensieve memory; it was all there for me to notice if I had only been less wound up in my own petulance. But I was and I'm ashamed to say for once I didn't 'get' Harry's great emotional need that day or the depth of his sadness over losing Sirius as soon as he'd found him.

And now we are finally getting to that moment where Hermione's time turner becomes relevant. It turned out that Snape was a huge git, and yes I know we already knew that but he was a bigger git than I had realised. He had a long standing vendetta against Sirius, and Lupin a little, but mostly Sirius, and he did all in his power to see Sirius destroyed because of it. So again while I was studying those darn transfiguration notes Harry and Hermione had to go back in time and save both Buckbeak and Sirius from the dementors. And this time when I heard the tale I was finally able to see my Harry as the big hero of the day. He did it. He managed to save Buckbeak and also help Sirius fly away. And again I feel shame over not seeing the sorrow that accompanied his revelations, the sadness that Sirius was gone just as they found each other. I was too busy sighing and cooing over Harry's heroics to really see what the real boy was feeling. Thank goodness I soon grew out of those romantic ideas. Poor Harry really needed to be seen as himself and not some hero-shaped persona. I was getting better, I really was, but I still had a ways to go. Thankfully I got there in the end, as that petulance over Harry not being heroic enough is one of the things I look back on with the most shame now.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 15: Home again

So there we were. For once Voldemort hadn't attacked Harry or the school or anyone else for that matter. He was, presumably, still in a dreadfully weak state in the depths of Albania where he had been the year previous. However, that day did unleash the horror that was to overcome Harry's life in an even worse way. That was the night Scabbers, I mean Peter Pettigrew, broke free and returned to Voldemort's side. That night set in motion everything that was to come in Harry's story and was to set the path we travelled as a couple together as well. But sitting in the common room that day I had no idea what was in store. I was just shocked at the tale and belatedly romantically impressed with Harry's bravery and heroism from the second half of that night even while I was in the midst of being petulant over him not pulling off some super feat to get them all out of the Shrieking Shack.

Another bad result of the time turner that night was that Lupin was unmasked as a werewolf and forced to quit his job. That absolute git of a teacher Snape was so annoyed at not getting Sirius destroyed that he told the Slytherins that Lupin was a werewolf. Poor Lupin was the best darn defence against the Dark Arts teacher we ever had and Snape ruined that for us and for him because of a stupid vendetta. I'd never liked Snape at all, but that day was about the lowest he could sink in my mind, or at least until the moment years later when he destroyed all our hopes by killing Dumbledore. Because I couldn't talk to Harry I ranted for hours on end to Colin about it and he agreed with me. Even if Lupin had forgotten his 'safe' potion once he wasn't likely to do it again. The reckless adventurer in me thrilled to the idea that he was dangerous but holding it at bay. And besides he was the gentlest kindest person you could wish to meet. Whoever they got for Defence Against the Dark Arts next year was never going to be as good as Lupin was, I was sure.

Eventually, I must say, I did _finally_ notice that Harry wasn't looking as happy as he usually did. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what was wrong but he had seemed more morose somehow than he had before. It took me a while to understand it but it eventually sank in to me that he was not relieved to know that Sirius wasn't after him anymore nor was he happy that he was safe. I came to an epiphany and realised what finding Sirius had meant to Harry. I made the quantum leap from 'Oh he must be so relieved it's all over' to putting myself in his place and thinking what it must be like for him. Harry was pretty good, he masked his sadness really well, but as soon as I got over my petulance about his non-heroism in the early part of that night, and stopped glamorising the heroics of the latter half, I realised that his eyes had lost that glint of fun and mischief I had thrilled to at the start of the year. And I finally realised just how truly human he really was.

Like many people I had been fooled by his amazing ability to deal with all the crap that had been thrown at him, so I had failed to remember that under it all he was just a normal boy with normal emotions. And the loss of his new family, of his escape from the horrors of Privet Drive, had hit him hard.For a few shining moments he had thought hewould be able to live with Sirius only to have it snatched away from him by Snape's actions. It must have been a hugely bitter pill to swallow. It was no wonder that his hatred of Snape increased in passion at the time.

I was in the common room the night Harry came back from saying goodbye to Lupin and his face was so pallid and drawn that I got really anxious for him. The pain in his eyes was so vivid that I couldn't understand how other people hadn't noticed it, but no-one paid him any attention and in retrospect I bet he preferred it that way but at the time I thought they were all terribly callous. I really wanted to comfort him again but I couldn't find the words to do it. All I could do was sit next to him when he was alone and offer my silent support. He seemed to appreciate it; at least he always smiled when he saw me and his eyes, oh so slowly, lost that haunted look. And so I played out the year anxiously watching as Harry slowly came back to himself. The glint may not yet have returned to his eyes, but he did at least seem happier.

Now, you may have noticed that after my first year I haven't really talked about Luna much. And given my raptures over how wonderful she was the previous year that should strike you all as a little odd. But the truth is that, try as we might, we had drifted apart. We just didn't see as much of each other this year. Hogwarts students didn't tend to mingle much outside their own houses, and so I rarely caught up with Luna at all. I still liked her fine, of course, but we just didn't have the tight friendship of last year any more, but I did regret it when I had time to think about it. As we all went down to the final feast in the Great Hall I saw her sitting on the bottom step looking dreamily at the other students around her who were all swarming into the Great hall. On an impulse I slid down beside her and smiled cheerfully.

'Hi Luna"

'Oh, hi Ginny'

'Are you going in to the Hall for the feast?'

'Yes, in a minute. I'm waiting to see the vampire first.'

I knew better by now than to ask her about it, so I changed the subject.

'I haven't seen you about much lately. Did your exams go well?'

'Oh, yes. I did really well in all of them. Daddy will be pleased.'

Just then Harry, Ron and Hermione along with some others from their year walked past us and into the hall. I sighed a little as I looked at Harry.

'Harry Potter looks a little stressed.' Luna said vaguely. 'He should try to relax or the heliotropes he will have to face later will burn him out.'

'Yeah, I think he does need to relax' I said, smiling internally. Luna always did pick up on human interactions and she knew I was still hung up on Harry and would jump at that conversation gambit. 'I just wish I knew how to get him to relax. He keeps his feelings to himself so much.'

Luna turned to me and her eyes were knowing rather than vague this time.

'Oh, I think that in time you'll know exactly how to help him calm down.' I stared at her in confusion. She noticed the look and added 'you and he have the same energy patterns this year. When two people are in tune like that they always relate to each other better than other people do. When the time comes you'll know what to do.'

The Entrance Hall had almost emptied and she smiled beatifically at me and said 'I'm going in now; I don't think the vampire is coming after all.'

I nodded and followed her in, my thoughts in turmoil.

As I got to the Gryffindor table I saw Colin waving frantically at me. I made my way over to him and noticed he had found seats diagonally across from Harry and his friends. As I watched them I thought about what Luna had said. I really wanted to believe her and I did know that Harry and I had been on the same wavelength after our time in the Chamber (apart from when I was being a whiny, immature, petulant child that is). But as for the rest of it I dismissed it as more Luna nonsense. There was no way that I would be that important in Harry's life was there? I didn't believe in all this 'same energy' stuff anyway, so I firmly pushed it out of my mind, determined to enjoy the time I had left. I made the most of covertly watching Harry as much as I could. I caught Hermione's eye on me once or twice and she had a thoughtful look on her face, almost smirking at times. But I didn't care. This was my last evening with Harry; I had to make the most of it after all. It was going to be a whole summer before I saw him again most likely.

Since Gryffindor had won the quidditch cup we also had enough points to nab the house cup so the feast was incredibly noisy at our table. I hadn't been there for last year's and so was unprepared for just how … fun it was to be at the winning table. We all talked and laughed, everyone shouting down everyone else and just generally enjoying being obnoxiously happy to really annoy the Slytherins. And even though there was a shadow in Harry's eyes, which I thought must be because he was going back to that dreadful muggle family for the summer, he laughed as loud and seemed to enjoy himself as much as the rest of us. I was glad, he deserved some fun and it made Miss Dramatic melt with unrequited longing as well. Yes I said I was getting better at treating Harry as a person, I didn't say I was fully there yet.

And so the day came that I had to say goodbye to Harry for the holidays again. I hated to think of him going away with his disgusting relatives so once again I thought a good pestering of Ron might make him get Harry invited to the Burrow for a visit. I snuck as close as I could while Ron said his goodbyes and so it was that I overheard the conversation Harry had with his odious uncle. With, I was thrilled to see, that glint of mischief again in his eye he told his uncle he had a dangerous criminal as a godfather who wanted to be sure he was happy and would be writing to make sure Harry was having fun. The grin on Harry's face, and the devilish look in his eye, as his uncle turned white was infectious and I couldn't help but grin myself as I watched them leave. Yes, I thought, he needed to come to our place to really explore that side of him and he really shouldn't miss the World Cup. Ron and I needed to get onto wangling that invitation from Mum and Dad.


	17. Chapter 17

**Section 3: third year**

Chapter 16: World Cup Mania.

Jealousy. This year was all about jealousy. I hit 13, puberty, and learned to be jealous of all the other girls Harry ever talked to. Well not Hermione obviously. The vibe between them was so sibling-like and it was so bleeding obvious to anyone with eyes that she was interested in my doofus brother that I just accepted her as part of the furniture. But while I gently simmered in jealousy for most of the year it did take a little while for it to stir up. The first incident I recall was at the Quidditch World Cup, but that is getting a little ahead of ourselves. First, I had to actually see Harry again. After last year and the moment where Harry finally got that cheeky glint back in his eyes, right when he was going off with those dreadful relatives of his I harangued everyone to get him to our place for the holidays. I was ruthless about it. I remembered back to my days as a Harry researcher before my first year and recalled some of those tactics. I pushed the idea of Harry coming onto everyone who would listen, I wheedled and whined about it and I even tried toe scuffing and looking from under lowered lashes at my parents to get what I wanted. The glazed looks were back on most of my brothers' faces but this time I had definitely done that on purpose. Instead of innocently needing to know every detail of my cardboard hero's life, I was trying to get him invited to our house. It worked, though Mum told me later she would have invited him anyway and just let me keep on with my pestering because it amused her. Mum sent a copiously stamped letter to Harry's uncle to ask his permission for Harry to come to the World Cup with us. I was a little concerned that Mum may have put a few too many stamps on; the muggle who sold them to us was looking at us as if we were mental. Still, we heard back from Harry that he was allowed to come with us. From then on I was beside myself with excitement.

The only thing that took my mind off Harry coming to stay was having my brothers Bill and Charlie come back to England for the World Cup.

'Billy! Charlie!' I shrieked throwing myself at them.

'Don't call me Billy if you want to survive, little sis' chuckled Bill, and I stuck my tongue out at him and squeezed him hard. This was an old argument, but we really adored each other. With him being the oldest and me being the youngest we had a weird bond but it was cute and I loved seeing him again after so long apart. Last year seemed so long ago. Still, after the excitement of my brothers' arrival died down and Hermione came too, my excitement began to wind up again. Once again my little girl crush was getting the better of me and I was eager, probably over-eager, to see Harry again. Miss Dramatic had it all worked out too. I would once again be that suave, cool, sophisticated person I had intended to be on Harry's first visit. No more blushing and not being able to talk for me. No, I was going to combat this thing and be the real me around Harry.

So of course when I walked in to the kitchen the evening after I knew Dad and the boys were off to collect Harry I was all poised to be brilliant. Didn't work guys. I did the usual blush and hide my eyes when he smiled at me. I had managed to get out my own smile, genuine and friendly, but as soon as he smiled back at me I was lost. All hope of speech was gone as I looked into his eyes and I became my usual blibbering mess. I kicked myself over and over for my idiocy and finally decided to ask Hermione's advice after the World Cup was over. Maybe even once we got to Hogwarts, just to lessen the chance of any of my brothers getting wind of it and teasing me unmercifully. I began to take notice of what was going on around me again, and quickly noticed that Mum was getting all worked up at the twins. Uh-oh, time to get out of there. Thankfully Hermione was quick on the uptake, unlike the boys who were oblivious.

'Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?' said Hermione

Ron, the great git, just didn't get it.

'He knows where he's sleeping. In my room, he slept there last –'

'We can all go' said Hermione, as she and I were backing carefully out the door.

'Oh. Right' he said finally, and we all slid away just as Mum got really wound up.

On our way back up the stairs Harry asked what Mum was on about and Ron and I had a good laugh telling him about the twins' joke products. They were so funny and yet they had managed to create some amazing trick stuff. Mum of course did not approve but I was thrilled that the loud bangs coming from their room were actually productive. And Harry seemed to think so too, even if it was dangerous. It was really cool and Mum was just a bit silly about their OWLs and their attitude. I shared another glance with Harry and that same old reckless glint was in his eyes again. I think we both thought Fred and George's innovation was cool.

Anyway, we spent a lot of time having fun that day and all evening too. It was just so great having Harry there again. I mean my family are awesome and everything and I thoroughly enjoy these big family gatherings whenever we have them. But having Harry there added a particular vibe and thrill to the situation. The idea that I might catch his eye or get to talk to him a little, hear him laugh or hear him making a joke gave an extra interest to the situation, and I fell a little more in love. And yes I do know that what I was feeling wasn't really love. I still had a bad case of the crushes but I was slowly getting past it. There had been times in the last year when I had seen him as himself and not as the 'boy I have a crush on' and even that night I had moments where I forgot all about him as the object of my affection and just enjoyed him as the cheeky, slightly irreverent person he was.

Next day we had to get up excruciatingly early to get ready to go to the World Cup. We all suffered through it except Dad who was revoltingly cheerful about the whole situation. Whistling at that time of the morning! You should have seen some of the looks Ron was sending him. Still, it was exciting to be there and on our way to the World Cup. The weirdest part of the whole thing was the portkey. It felt kinda crazy to be standing there in the half light clutching a dingy old boot. I was directly across from Harry and looking at him I could see he was thinking the same thing. Then the familiar wrench in my stomach and we were tumbling on the ground at the other end.

Dad was in heaven. All that muggleness around him was intoxicating for him. He was so excited to be around real muggles and doing things the proper muggle way. Poor Harry didn't look so delighted by it all, I guess because he'd been doing the hard yards the muggle way all his life, but he took pity on my Dad and helped him out with the tents and the fire and everything. It was all really cool and all seeing all the international wizards but I wasn't that keen on just staring around to be honest. I wanted to get to the good stuff: seeing the best teams in the world fight it out for the Cup.

Finally, it began to get dark at the campsite and a trail lit up showing the way to the pitch. I almost squealed I was so excited. I cast a quick look sideways but Harry didn't seem to have noticed my moment of fangirlishness, so I contented myself with blushing madly and walking as quickly as I could behind my dad to get to the stadium. Dad had managed to get tickets for the top box with all the top dignitaries which just goes to prove you don't have to be a snobby, stuck up, bribing maniac to get good things happen to you. I'll take my dad and his lower income over the snobbery of the other purebloods any day. It's one thing Harry and I have struggled really hard to get right in our lives too, even though Harry is so well off. Having seen the corruption that money makes we've done our best to make sure our kids don't turn out like, say Draco Malfoy did. But I digress yet again. I really must stop doing that! Anyway, there we were in the top box with all sorts of important people and the scum who'd bribed their way in as well.

The pre-game entertainment sparked the first shot of jealousy in me. The Bulgarians brought Veela with them, beautiful gorgeous Veela. And the boys all went crazy about them. Now I know they were kind of made to do it by the powers of the Veela but I was still ripped to shreds by the way Harry was looking at them. He was half pie falling out of the box trying to get to them. I cast a look sideways at Hermione who was scowling at Ron. He was trying to dive off the edge of the box into the stadium, and looked even more crazy than Harry. Honestly, the things boys will do for far too attractive girls! Anyway, as I was saying I was filled with horrible jealousy. I knew there was no way Harry would look at me like that but did he really have to go all gaga over the shiny creatures just to rub it in?

The game itself was amazing. I have never seen such brilliant flying before or since. The Irish team was just amazing together; they worked so well as a team and just had a great rapport that translated to some spectacular moves. On the Bulgarian side Victor Krum was just out of this world. Having seen him play a thirst rose up in me to be on a team and hopefully get good like he was. I didn't want to be a seeker, no. But I was really keen to be a chaser. I determined then and there to try out for the team this year. I was a third year now and many people were on the team by that age. I was good, why not take a shot? I happily watched the game and was transported for the duration. That game stands out in my memory as the greatest I ever saw, it's just a pity about what came next.

But that was still a way off. We happily made our way back to the tents with Ron rhapsodising at the top of his voice about the merits of Krum. While I agreed with him I wasn't about to make a fool of myself the way he was. If I didn't know better I'd have said that Ron had consumed a few firewhiskeys too many. But he hadn't and it must just have been the excitement of the night that set him off. I just drank it all in and when we got back to the tent I was able to hold my own in a discussion on the merits of the players with all the rest. I agreed with Ron that Krum was the best player there and Harry and the others tried to argue that the Irish team as a whole was better. Well, that _was_ a given but I still felt that Krum stood out as the player of the match. We argued enjoyably, me getting more and more tired but reluctant to leave when everyone was still talking about quidditch. Well, to tell the truth when Harry was still talking about it. The excitement in his eyes and body was intoxicating to me much as Dad had been over the muggle stuff earlier. And it wasn't til I fell asleep in my cocoa that we were all sent yawning and grumbling to our beds. I slipped into sleep again dreaming of the day when I would be a world famous seeker and imagining what my first professional game would be like.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 17: World Cup Horror.

Suddenly, a boom rocked the tent shaking me out of my bed, starling me out of my sleep. Hermione, the only other occupant of the girls' tent, shrieked as she also woke up to the noise. Distantly I could hear Dad shouting at everyone to get up, so I slid out of bed and grabbed a jacket, hurrying outside to see what was going on. Dad was in a right panic, and that scared me more than anything. I'd never seen Dad so worked up as he was at that time.

'We're going to help the ministry. You lot – get into the woods, and _stick together_. I'll come fetch you when we've sorted this out!' He indicated towards the sky and for the first time I noticed that some poor people were suspended upside down. I was so shocked and horrified that I allowed Fred to grab my hand and pull me towards the woods. I could hear the others following but in the dark where we were going was hazy and unclear. Additionally the shouts and screams and muffled bangs that were still occurring made it hard to hear those who were with us. In the confusion Fred, George and I got separated from Harry, Ron and Hermione. At first we just assumed they were with us but soon it was clear that they were nowhere to be found. In the horror of the moment I was terrified. What if something had happened to them all? What if Harry, Ron … everyone had been hurt? I'm not a crier, I'm really not. But that night I couldn't help tears leaking out as we ran to find a safe spot in the woods. I didn't sob; it wasn't that sort of a cry. But I couldn't help the tears that dripped down my cheeks. Fred noticed and hugged me tight to him when we finally got to a clearing.

The thoughts that kept running through my mind were all on what was happening to the others. If Dad had to 'sort something out' then there was something big going on, and we had lost the others when we'd been specifically told to stick together. It was eerie in that forest, even having Fred and George with me. The dark was impenetrable and none of us lit our wands, not wishing to call attention to ourselves. The bangs and shouts could still be heard in the distance, muffled and very menacing for being so quiet. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest and I suspect I was on the verge of panic, both for our situation and because I had no idea what was happening to the others.

All of a sudden the screams got much louder and much more terrified. George gasped and whispered 'look up' and when I did my heart stood literally still in my chest. I had pored over enough magical history books in my early years obsessing over Harry to know that sign. It was the Dark Mark, You Know Who's sign. Someone here was showing allegiance to You Know Who, and what's more they were suggesting they had killed. I was beside myself with terror over Harry and the others. Where were they? What had happened to them? My heart clenched again. Was that mark shot up there because of one of them? All of them? All in all I was really pleased when George suggested we go back to the tents. Even though we'd been told to stay put that mark had been shot up in the woods and I wanted to be as far away from it as I could get.

We hurried quickly back through the trees, wands out now to light our way, heedless of being seen. We could hear people rushing through the trees around us and their panting, frantic and stuttering, was enough to make me even more frightened than I already was. Where oh where was Harry? Ron? Hermione? I panted along behind the twins desperate to get back to the tent and find out what was up. But when we got back there they were silent and still. I was just beginning to panic again when Bill and Charlie rushed into the tent. They sighed in relief when they saw us, but …

'Where are the others? Ron and the others?' asked Charlie. Bill and Percy were both bleeding, and Bill was riffling around trying to find something to staunch the bleeding in his arm.

'We don't know' said Fred, 'got separated as we got to the forest. What's going on here? What's it all about?'

'No time to talk about it. We need to find Dad and the others.'

Charlie heard something outside and popped his hesighed in relief then called out 'Dad, what's going on? Fred, George and Ginny got back OK, but the others –'

'I've got them here' said Dad and I shut my eyes in mute relief. They were OK. I paid very little attention to the conversation going on around me. I was more interested in watching Harry again; watching his eyes reflect the emotions of what everyone else was doing and thinking. Eventually the talk ran down and Dad sent us all back to bed to try and get some more rest before heading home early the next morning. But I couldn't sleep, the events of that night, the ominous eeriness of the forest we were in, the terror over everyone's safety and overarching all the fear of the Dark Mark raised again prevented me from sliding into that easy oblivion.

So I was incredibly thankful to get a portkey home, fall into Mum's arms and slide into sleep in my own bed far from the worry that had plagued the night before. By the time I awoke again it was well into the afternoon and the sun was streaming in the windows of my bedroom. I looked over and saw Hermione had curled up in her camp bed and was still sleeping in the corner of my room. She looked so peaceful lying there with her hair scattered over the pillow and a slight smile around her lips. She looked far more soft and approachable in sleep, and I wondered why she hid that side of her so much when she was awake. She stirred and I quickly looked away; I didn't want to be caught staring at someone in their sleep since that seemed vaguely creepy to me.

'Morning,' she smiled at me, still looking less formidable to me than usual. I smiled back sleepily. Her look turned from the dreamy one she had as she just woke to a determined, penetrating one. I knew this look. She was about to delve into something. I gulped as she looked at me so forthrightly.

'We should go get something to eat and let Mum fuss over us a bit...' I tried.

'Soon. For right now I want to talk to you about Harry.'

'M-me? About Harry? Why?' I was sure I was blushing a hideous rosy red. That blush that began at my neck and worked its way upwards in a flame of vivid colour.

'Uh-huh. Harry. You really like him don't you?'

'I well, I … I guess so. He's a great guy …' I couldn't look her in the eye and she noticed.

'Ginny. You turn into a different person when he's around, you look at him like a lovelorn puppy, you can't get out a coherent sentence half the time. It's obvious you like him.'

By now the blush had worked its way right up to my forehead. I could feel it glowing neon bright up there. I nodded miserably, still not properly looking at her. She climbed out of her bed and came and sat next to me on mine.

'Now, I'm going to give you a little advice. I really like you Ginny, so I'm going to help you out a little here.'

'OK' I said, intrigued despite myself. She was, it seemed, having the talk with me that I had thought about having with her. I would have preferred to do it myself and fool myself into thinking I hadn't been so mortifyingly obvious. But if she was offering I was going to accept advice from one of his best friends.

'First, I think you, the real you, the one I see when we're alone, would do really well with Harry.'

I could feel the blush glow even brighter at the words. Soon I'd be on fire I was sure.

'But' and here she stopped and contemplated what she would say next 'but, I think it's not time yet. You both need to grow up a bit.'

'Grow up?' I was even more mortified, and began examining my hands which were trembling a little. Hermione slipped her arm around me and gave me a hug.

'Mostly him. He needs to see you as a real person, not as the little girl who had a crush on him. Just … loosen up a bit. Maybe stop focussing on him as the boy you like and start seeing him as a person.'

'I know, I know. I just don't know how …'

'Well, I reckon you should start by going out with other guys. You know, have some fun, learn to be yourself around guys you like.'

'But I don't want to go out with other guys.'

'I know. But just think about thinking about it, OK? Maybe not right away, but I just think if you learn to be yourself around him he'll see the amazing person I know rather than the clumsy little girl he knows. And having some fun of your own in the meantime can't be that bad, right?'

'I guess so,' I said miserably.

'Come on, at the very least you should be real friends with him, and that's gotta be better than this, right?' The idea of 'getting over Harry' and seeing other people was not appealing. I liked mooning over him, I liked thrilling whenever he came in the room. But on the other hand, the idea that by learning to be myself around boys, especially around Harry would help me with him did seem plausible. And getting closer to him, even as friends, was sure to be more interesting than my current lovesick state. Hermione laughed and hugged me, I smiled at her ruefully.

'I guess trying to be myself isn't such a stupid idea.' I grudgingly admitted, a ghost of a smile drifting on to my face, and we decided to go down to get some food.

Over the next few days I pondered what Hermione had said. I tried really hard to put her advice into action, but I was paralysed by fear about it. How, after all those years of puppy-like devotion, did you go about being your normal self? Wasn't he going to notice if I began chattering like a loon? I knew I would be nervous and if I wasn't rendered unable to speak through nerves I knew I would be speaking far too fast and far too much. Still, her advice was simmering now, and I figured that maybe going slowly through the year would be my best bet. Not startle him with a sudden complete change of personality. Yes, I admit it, I was being a coward over it, but it was actually a sound idea. Taking it slow would be easier for me and less weird for everyone around me. By the time we got back to school and got settled in to the feast in the great Hall I had it decided. I really wasn't going to obsess over Harry this year. I would allow myself a bit of room, look around a bit see if any of those other guys might be a little bit interesting. And if I got a bit jealous, like with the Veelas, well that was OK so long as I didn't make it obvious to _him_. Taking a look around didn't mean I was completely blind and oblivious or that I was completely ruling him out of my life, it just meant I was widening my horizons a little.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18: Triwizard Wonderings.

As I said by the time we got to school I was pondering Hermione's advice almost full time, trying to figure out the best way to go about it. In the Great Hall that day, however, my mind was ripped away from my thoughts on Harry by Dumbledore rising to give his customary speech. This time, he had a really big surprise for us, but the first part of his announcement did not impress me at all. They were cancelling quidditch? Pah! There went my chance to make it to the team. I was really annoyed and missed part of what Dumbledore said next. But I was riveted by his last sentence.

'It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.'

Everyone was silent for a second or two, too stunned by the news, I think, to make any noise. Then my dear brother broke the tension.

'You're JOKING!' he said and everyone laughed.

I knew all about the Tournament of course. It had been enormously popular in the past but had died out because it was so dangerous. The reckless side of me thrilled to it along with most of the other students in the room. So I was as annoyed as anyone else when they said there was an age restriction this year. Humph! All the good stuff happens to other people. I wasn't quite as mutinous as Fred and George though. The looks on their faces as Dumbledore said that were enough to bring me out of my own funk and giggle helplessly at them. I looked around me, Hermione looked smug, Harry and Ron both looked a little peeved but Fred and George's expressions had turned to ones of devious planning. I could tell they were going to try and get around the age problem if they could. I grinned conspiratorially at them and left them to it. If anyone could do it, it would be those two but I decided on reflection that watching someone else get blasted in a hail of dangerous tasks would likely be more fun than actually being part of them myself.

The next few weeks were full of eager anticipation. We wondered what the students from the other schools would be like. Colin and I talked for hours on end about who might be the champion for Hogwarts, who the impartial judge would be who would select the champions and of course what the difficult and dangerous tasks would be. We had classes of course and early on Wednesday morning we found ourselves in Defence Against the Dark Arts with the new professor: Moody. He was a really strange looking guy and he wasn't a great advertisement for the Auror office as he was missing what seemed like half his face and several limbs. Still, he taught us many amazing things. All the standard jinxes and hexes he whipped through incredibly fast because he wanted to get to what he called 'the good stuff', the 'important' stuff. I was a little troubled when I heard that he had shown everyone in Harry's year the 3 Unforgivable curses, but it sounded like it had been a brilliant lesson. Still, I wasn't unhappy not to see them myself, though I guessed at least I knew one thing we'd be learning next year if we kept the same teacher. Defence Against the Dark Arts never seemed to have the same teacher 2 years running, and while Moody was far better than Lockhart, I preferred the gentle style of professor Lupin from last year. I was still a little sad that he had been forced to leave. As I stared at Moody's strange face I felt a sense of repulsion that had nothing to do with how he looked and everything to do with the way he taught. He just seemed a little too hard bitten about life. I mean did we have to be reminded every 3 seconds about 'Constant vigilance'? Wouldn't every 5 do just as well?

Anyway, we came finally to the big day. The other 2 schools who were to be in the Tournament were to arrive and the castle had been cleaned til it gleamed, showing up our pride in Hogwarts' long tradition. We were all chivvied into our best robes and lined up out the front to welcome them. I know Harry has explained it all in his biography so I won't bore you with the details again, but the two methods of arrival were both very spectacular. Though both were overshadowed of course by _who_ had arrived. As soon as the schools' students had got out of their conveyances a stir ran through the Hogwarts students starting at the front. I craned my neck to see and my mouth dropped open. Victor Krum, the Bulgarian seeker, was here in our school. I heard Ron going daft over him as we watched him pass, and I mentally rolled my eyes. What _I_ was doing was cursing the teachers who had decided on having no quidditch this year. Man, if we had been playing quidditch and I had got on the team I may have had a chance to see Victor Krum up close, examine his moves, learn from him. But no such luck, I thought grumpily. I was still musing sourly on the vagaries of life as we all returned into the hall for the arrival feast welcoming the students from the other 2 schools. It was one of the most spectacular we'd ever had; the House Elves in the kitchens had outdone themselves making the very best meal they could. And the Great Hall was lavishly decorated, probably to impress. But many of the students, especially from the French school, didn't look very impressed, though I did see one or two nudging each other and pointing Harry out. Once more blushing to myself as I remembered the way I used to be, I was feeling sorry for him. He ignored it of course, but I wondered how on earth you got used to such terrible manners and having people check you out everywhere you go.

We all stared in awe at the Goblet of Fire as Dumbledore revealed its purpose. All those of age who wanted to be chosen as champion had to put their names in it. There was something mystical about it even though it looked just like and old wooden cup, possibly because of the flames dancing in it. But I think it would have held that aura no matter what There was a feeling of it having been around for so long and having 'seen' so many things. It spoke of history, of bloodshed and fear and I shivered a little as I looked at it. But I could see, out of the corner of my eye, Fred, George and Lee Jordan plotting how they were going to get their names in the cup and compete. I saw them later talking to Harry and Ron and figured they were trying to get them in on the idea. I don't think either of those two was truly serious about it, not like Lee and the twins were anyway, but they both had speculative looks on their faces. I didn't like the thought of them trying to fool the goblet but I figured they wouldn't be able to do it so I wasn't too worried.

From the time of the Welcoming Feast til the Halloween Feast the next day interest in the goblet was running high. Everyone made some sort of excuse to wander through the Entrance Hall several times that day just to see people slip their papers in and whisper about who might get to be champion. We all sighed in envy as the visiting schools put their papers in one by one and watched several of the older Hogwarts students boldly put them into the Goblet in front of everyone. I really enjoyed the feverish excitement and the way everyone was whispering about it. It almost felt like those times before Christmas where you all talk excitedly about what you might get; but in reality there was actually no excitement at all to the ceremony of putting in the paper. The goblet just accepted each one and remained impartially blank, the flames just retaining their complacent glowing state. But it was still somehow thrilling to be sitting there seeing it happen.

By the time the Halloween Feast was over everyone was desperate to see the names selected and the Tournament begin. I was sitting diagonally opposite Harry and his friends, just a little further away from the teachers' table than they were, and so I was able to see them out of the corner of my eye. It wasn't exactly planned but I wasn't exactly upset about it either. When Viktor Krum's name was called out everyone clapped but no-one was surprised at all. He was obviously the most qualified at his school being the oldest student there. I later asked Hermione, who spent a bit of time with him that year, why he was still at school and she said he'd missed so much time with his quidditch career that he was a little behind and stayed on to finish up his education. That little bit of age and experience was enough to tip the scales in his direction and so he became the champion for Durmstrang. We all clapped as he walked between the tables, up to the front table and out behind the teachers.

Next a snooty looking girl called Fleur Delacour was called for Beauxbatons, and she flounced up to the front simpering all the way. Once again I couldn't stand the way so many of the boys around kind of went blank and gooey when she walked by. What was it about her that made them go so gaga? She looked cold and unfriendly and yet the boys were falling all over themselves for her. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Why couldn't boys fall for nice girls with personality rather than snooty brats with great looks? My clapping, and that of a number of the other girls I noticed, was fairly half hearted as she walked out and followed Krum to the room behind the head table.

The goblet lit up once more and we all held our breath. This was it. This was the moment we'd been waiting for: who was going to be Hogwarts champion? Whoever it was would be guaranteed fame and adulation from pretty much the entire school, though I did hope it wouldn't be a Slytherin. Who'd want one of them representing us all? So I begged silently as the goblet blew its piece of paper out once more 'please be a Gryffindor, please be a Gryffindor!' but with a whoosh the paper fell into Dumbledore's and it was … Cedric Diggory. Wow, a Hufflepuff. Who'd have thought? I really like the Hufflepuffs, they tend to be a really nice caring bunch, but they just never seem to take the world by storm. It seemed crazy that a Hufflepuff would be Hogwarts champion. But I was glad for Cedric, he had seemed really nice at the World Cup and always had a real sense of decency and fair play when we played quidditch. And at least the Hogwarts champion wasn't a stinking Slytherin.

So, there it was. I looked sideways at Fred and George, who seemed to have taken it fine that they had not been able to hoodwink the goblet. They looked reasonably happy, though I could see Fred comforting Angelina Johnson who had put her name in and been unsuccessful. And so it was that I happened to be looking in Harry's direction when the cup threw out its fourth piece of paper. He looked as confused as I felt when the sparks turned red again and Dumbledore caught the final paper and called out a name.

'Harry Potter.'


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 19: The first Task

The shock echoed around the room. I know I gasped out loud as I looked around. How was it possible? How could Harry's name have got in there? And how could he possibly manage to be called out when there was already a Hogwarts champion? I stole a glance at him, since I could pretend I was looking at the teachers' table while doing so, and knew immediately that he hadn't done it himself. He, too, was shocked and stunned; in fact he looked rooted to his chair. Hermione pushed him out of his chair and set him walking towards Dumbledore. As he made his way up to the front I could tell he was shaking though he did a good job of hiding it. All the teachers, everyone, was silent with the shock of it and I don't think any of them knew how to handle it. Dumbledore handed him his piece of paper and shunted him through the door all the others had gone through.

As he disappeared from view the teachers had a hurried conference and then dismissed the school to our dorms. Pandemonium broke out around the tables as soon as we were released. Our table of course was jubilant. Most people assumed Harry had put his own name in and they all admired his daring. I, who could tell he hadn't, was focussed on the other tables. The Hufflepuffs were glaring at us and whispering mutinously among themselves. I think they thought we'd stolen their thunder and since they didn't get much they were bitter. And things weren't much better at the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, both of which were accommodating the visiting schools. They were all muttering amongst themselves and their visiting school. I had a bad feeling about all of this. Harry had to compete; I remembered Dumbledore's words from yesterday: '_Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract_.' But he wasn't going to have the support of the school like Cedric did. I foresaw a lonely time for him, and my heart ached a little at the thought.

Fred and George organised a huge and noisy party in celebration. While I enjoyed myself I wondered how Harry was feeling; he certainly hadn't seemed pleased to be a champion. But right then I was more concerned about Ron. He was off in a corner by himself nursing a butterbeer that was slowly going warm while he looked at it. I made my way over and plopped down beside him.

'Hey Ron, why the long face?' I asked cheerfully.

'Nothing.' He sounded sullen.

'Oh, what? You're annoyed that Harry is champion?'

'Perfect Harry.' He spat out. Always gotta be number 1. Never mind his mates.'

'That's a bit harsh Ron. Didn't you see his face? He had no idea …'

'Yeah that's right, defend your little crush boy. I knew you'd take his side like always.'

I gaped at him, unsure where to start on this idiocy and feeling my Weasley temper beginning to rise to the surface. But before I could decide whether to roast him or try to get him to see reason, he plonked down his drink, excused himself and headed up to the boys' dormitory. I stared after him, wondering what on earth had got into him but before I could get my head around his craziness the portrait hole opened and Harry himself was dragged into the room.

I watched him carefully and it still seemed like he hadn't done it himself. He wasn't the life and soul of the party like you'd expect if he'd gotten away with something as big as sneaking his name into the goblet. Instead he seemed to shy away from the attention and he made his excuses to leave as fast as he could. As I watched him disappear up the stairs, Hermione came and sat down with me, taking Ron's vacant seat.

'It's a bit weird, isn't it?' she said.

'This champion thing? Yeah it is. He obviously didn't do it, but who did?'

She gave me a sharp look. 'You noticed it too, then?'

'Well, yeah. I may not be staring like a lovesick loon so much anymore … thanks for that by the way' she inclined her head graciously, we giggled and I carried on 'but when something like that happens you can't help but pay attention.'

Hermione nodded and said 'Yeah. And he looked so shocked. I'm surprised none of these people noticed how unenthusiastic he is.'

'Well, they don't want to, do they? And Ron's being a prize git about it too. He thinks Harry's done it on purpose.'

'Well Ron's Ron, isn't he? I'll try and talk to him but I think he's going to have to figure it out for himself. In the meantime I'm going to talk to Harry about this tomorrow. You want to come?'

I struggled for a moment, caught between my desperate desire to be a part of it and my knowledge that he'd open up better if it was just Hermione with him. I eventually said 'No, no I think it would be better for you to do it alone. He'll be more likely to talk properly to you.' I even managed to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

The next little while in the castle was a hodge podge of different emotions. I watched as poor Harry got more and more pale and became less and less like himself. The whole school except the Gryffindors had turned against him again as I feared on that first night. He was facing a dangerous task and had no idea what it was not to mention being pitted against competitors much older then him who knew more magic. I could see the worry eating away at him. Sadly, my new found resolution to be myself around him was only in its infancy. So I didn't feel that I'd be able to approach him with any assurance of dignity and non babblingness, and since I felt that more 'hero worship' type behaviour from a Gryffindor would be the last thing he needed right then, I looked on rather wistfully as Hermione took on the role of the comforter and confidant.

But I reached my limit when the Slytherins and half the rest of the school started sporting those 'Potter stinks' badges. I finally saw red. Harry was worried enough about this thing without those gits adding something as asinine as this. This was the push I needed to begin to talk to him as a fellow person in need. I found him all alone in the common room one day and went and sat down in one of the chairs arranged around his.

'Hi Harry'

'Hi Ginny, what's up?' He looked resigned to more worshipful chit chat from me, and my heart beat awkwardly. I needed to show him that he was 'safe' from that side of me from now on, so I smiled at him naturally and began to talk.

'Don't let those badges get you down, Harry. It's just the stupid Slytherins being stupid Slytherins.'

His mouth twisted in a sour smile.

'I know, but …'

'You're pissed off that Ron's a giant git and no-one else realises that you never put your own name into the goblet'

'Yeah. Wait … you believe me?'

'Course I do. You're not the type to go looking for more fame.'

'You got that right' but he was smiling more genuinely now.

'Anyway, don't worry about it. They'll all be on your side by the time they see you do the task, I'm sure. Do you have any ideas what it is?'

'Yeah' he said sourly. 'Dragons. Only don't tell anyone 'cause I'm not meant to know. Dragons.' He sighed heavily.

'I won't' I promised and I managed to stay reasonably calm on the surface, but inside I was screaming. Dragons? Were the organisers insane? Letting school kids fight dragons? And this was only the first task!

I watched anxiously from a distance as he and Hermione disappeared for hours each day, trying to figure out and practise a spell to get Harry through I supposed. If I thought he was pale before it was nothing on how he looked now. I couldn't believe people were still treating him the way they were when it was obvious he wasn't enjoying himself and didn't want to be there. But everywhere I went I heard mutters like 'Well, he only has himself to blame' and 'I guess _now_ he doesn't want the fame' and I wanted to attack every one of them but I knew it would do no good so I gritted my teeth and did my best to offer Harry what support I could in the few moments I did see him.

Tuesday morning dawned and everyone was tense and expectant. This was the day of the first task and the whole school was excitedly talking about what was coming. Well, the whole school except for the few of us who knew or guessed just how bad the task was going to be. Harry looked sick, and I looked around at the other champions and they all looked freaked out as well. After lunch the champions were all herded out and sent out to the tent to get ready while the rest of the school stayed behind and the tension level rose rapidly. I just wanted it to be over with. The idea of Harry facing a dragon was terrifying and I wanted to be safely on the other side of the ordeal. I wanted _him_ to be safely on the other side. I kept repeating to myself over and over: 'it'll be safe, they're making sure it's safe' but it didn't help much. All the rumours of how other champions had died while doing the tasks kept intruding. No matter how safe they made it they were still facing dragons.

A giant score card was written in golden flames in front of the tent where we knew the champions waited. Soon it read:

_Competitors, their places in the contest and the dragon each will face:_

_1: Cedric Diggory, Swedish Short-snout_

_2: Fleur Delacour, Welsh Green_

_3: Viktor Krum, Chinese Fireball_

_4: Harry Potter, Hungarian Horntail._

I gasped in horror as I read that board. Not only was Harry last and so I'd have to worry about him til the very last minute, but he was also facing the very worst of all the dragons. I knew a little bit about dragon lore from talking to Charlie and I knew that the Horntail was a really vicious beast and the tail was as deadly the breath.

I don't think I have ever spent a longer afternoon than that one. Well actually, that's a lie. There were several during that war that could have put up a fight, not to mention some of Harry's Auror missions. But it was definitely the worst I'd had up til that moment. The other champions came and went. Cedric got a nasty burn on his face and I shuddered at the thought of what could happen to Harry. By the time Harry actually entered the enclosure I think I was almost beside myself, and I hate to think what it must have been like for Harry waiting in that tent by himself, listening as he imagined what the others were going through. He looked so terribly pale I thought he was going to pass out, but he didn't. He stood there, looking remarkably calm considering the colour he'd gone, and called out a spell which I didn't catch. Then he waited, with his eyes fixed on the dragon and suddenly we all noticed his firebolt charging towards him. That did it. Most of the stand surged to its feet roaring as he jumped on and flew his way really quickly to slip in under the dragon and get the golden egg. He had been sideswiped by the tail and had a gash on his shoulder, but it didn't matter. It was amazing. He was amazing, and I felt a crazy surge of pride in him. He hadn't let himself be defeated by the bullies who were trying to put him down, but had managed despite the odds set against him to tie for first place with Viktor Krum, the acknowledged favourite for the Tournament. After the fear before the task I was almost dizzy with relief, and he looked the same as he came to land with a huge grin on his face.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 20: The Yule ball

Harry seemed much happier immediately after the first task. For a start Ron had got over his gittiness and realised what we all knew all along: that Harry hadn't put his own name in the Goblet of Fire and the two of them were good friends again. I was glad. Much as I liked Hermione and I knew Harry did too, he was happier when he had Ron to do goofy boy stuff with. Also, the school had finally rallied around him and realised as they watched the dragons that he wasn't really such a pillock after all. Well, most of the school if you didn't count the Slytherins, and I didn't. So Harry seemed to be having a much better time after he got past that dragon. He was happier so I didn't see any reason to worry about him and I stopped focussing on him quite so much.

Soon the whole school was buzzing with the new fun to be had. In transfiguration one day in December McGonagall announced to all the upper classes that on Christmas Day there would be a Yule Ball as part of the Tournament's events. The purpose was to make friends and have some fun with the students from the other schools. No-one was told in our year and below because it was for Fourth year and above only. But we all knew about it within minutes of the Fourth year girls getting back to the common room. The big news for us was, of course, that those who could go could invite younger students if they liked. I overheard Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil giggling about it in the common room later that night.

'Do you think Harry will invite Weasley?' giggled Parvati

'Probably' said Lavender with a sniff. 'You know he'd do anything for the Weasleys and she won't be able to go if he doesn't invite her; plus she still has that desperate crush on him. It's a sure fire date for him, isn't it? How much do you want to bet he does?'

My blood boiled. How dare they talk about me and Harry like that? If I needed anything to prove to me that I had to get over myself and treat Harry like a normal person, this was it. We were common room gossip and as mortified as I was for myself, I was even more horrified at the thought of poor Harry being subjected to this type of gossip on account of my actions. Of course if Harry did ask me I wasn't going to let petty gossip get in the way of accepting, but I decided then and there that I wasn't going to play the love struck fool trying to get him to notice me either.

Soon Hermione was walking around with a secret little smile on her face, and I could tell someone had asked her to go to the ball and she'd accepted. Having already ascertained that my cretin brother and his clueless sidekick hadn't managed to get up the courage to ask anyone yet, I knew it couldn't be Ron she was going with. So I cornered her one day after class and dragged her into an empty classroom and refused to let her out before she dished the goss.

'All right, all right! Only if you promise not to laugh at me.'

'I won't' I said breathlessly. It must be someone terrible if she thought I might laugh.

'OK, so well you know how Viktor Krum has been hanging out in the library a lot lately?'

I nodded, my eyes going wide as I took in what she might be saying.

'Well, turns out he was trying to get up the courage to ask me to go out with him.' She was blushing rosy red.

'Why would I laugh, Hermione? Viktor Krum? Seriously?'

She nodded, a grin on her face. 'He was so lovely about it too' she sighed, 'and he kissed my hand after I said yes. He said … he said he likes girls who are intelligent, so he can actually talk to them.'

'That's brilliant, Hermione. I'm so happy for you. So, what are you going to wear?'

She giggled and we got down to the really important part of a Ball for girls: the clothes. I'm not a clothes person in general, but I do make an exception for something like this.

The castle as a whole became a haven for romantic, giggling girls. I notice in Harry's biography it talks about how the castle was suddenly filled with girls and in a way he was right. It suddenly became commonplace for girls to be out and about in groups, giggling about the coming event, and eying up all the guys around them. I was a bit sad about it of course since I was only a third year and had very little chance of anyone asking me. Regardless of what Lavender and Parvati had said I didn't really think there was a chance that Harry would ask me so I expected to be sitting this one out in the common room as the rest of them had their fun. So when Neville Longbottom approached me I was feeling very receptive right then. He looked so sweet and nervous and unsure of himself. I took pity on him and smiled.

'Hi Neville. What's up?'

'Hi Ginny. Um, I was wondering ifyou'dliketogototheballwithme.'

I looked at him for a moment, considering. I thought about what Hermione had said, about going out with other guys. I thought about what Lavender and Parvati had said about Harry, and I thought about what a nice guy Neville was and how I'd like to get to know him better.

'Sure Neville' I said. 'I'd love to.'

'What? Really? You'll go with me? Harry…'

'Hasn't asked me, and you have. And I'd love to go with you. I think you're a wonderful person and I'd like to know you better.'

I was actually relieved and really happy. I was going to go to the Ball and I wasn't going with Harry. That didn't make me as upset as I thought it might have done, in fact it made me proud. I felt strong and independent and like I didn't need him anymore. As I was pondering this I came across Ron wandering the hallways looking shell shocked. Turned out he'd asked Fleur Delacour to the Ball and she'd looked at him like he was scum on her shoe. He turned tail and ran from there, but didn't want to go back to the common room and admit to Harry that he'd even asked her let alone what her response was. I cajoled and wheedled and finally got him to agree to go back to the Common room with me.

We were there, sitting with him telling me all about it and me soothing him when Harry walked in.

'What's up, Ron?' asked Harry. I looked up at him, and noticed that he was looking a little wild eyed too. I wondered for a moment what had made him look so downcast, but snapped myself back to the present to answer the question Ron didn't want to.

'He – er – just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him.' All of a sudden his face as he wandered the halls afterwards came back and I got an entirely inappropriate urge to laugh. My mouth twitched and I looked at Harry to try to avoid laughing out loud. He was more interested in telling Ron he was a crazy loon than looking at me, though and it didn't even worry me much. I was just congratulating myself on my new independent me and the way I was able to be perfectly sane around Harry when something he said leapt out

'She's part Veela. You were right – her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it – but she was wasting her time. He's going with Cho Chang.'

A wave of jealousy rushed over me at the tone of his voice. Apparently Ron noticed it too, as he looked up jolted out of his own doldrums.

'I asked her to go with me just now and she told me,' Harry added.

I felt the smile slide off my face as he said that. White hot pain stabbed at me, and I figured maybe I wasn't as over Harry as I'd hoped. Thank goodness for Neville. Thank goodness he had asked me already and I didn't have to pretend I wasn't waiting for Harry at all. They began making fun of Neville and wanting to know who would possibly go out with him, and it made me mad. It wasn't for my sake either. I felt so terrible for Neville because Ron assumed no-one would like him enough to go to a ball with him. I determined once more to make the effort to get to know him better now I had the chance.

Ron suggested I go with Harry, and as miserable as I had been when I heard him say he asked Cho to go it was nothing on right then.

'I can't. I'm going with – with Neville. He asked me after Hermione said no, and I thought … well … I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year.' I was miserable as I looked up at Harry and the eager look he had and the slightly downcast one that crossed his face when I said I couldn't go slid into me like a knife.

I _could_ have gone with Harry; it was obvious he would have taken me. I miserably said I was going to go to dinner because I hated myself right then for wanting so badly to ditch Neville and go with Harry. But I wasn't going to do that for two reasons. First, I was never going to let down someone as sweet and kind as Neville. It wasn't right at all, especially after the way Ron had treated the idea of someone agreeing to go with him. And anyway, if I was going to go somewhere like that with Harry I wanted it to be for myself and not because Ron suggested it as a last ditch move. Still, I wished one of us had thought of it earlier. But as it was Neville was their friend and I might get to hang out with them there, maybe even have a dance with Harry. I blushed at the thought as I wandered down towards the Great Hall. I may have grown up a little but I still had some romantic dreams when it came to Harry. I was trying my best to live as Hermione had suggested but it was taking time. Still, I had accepted Neville, I hadn't ditched him for Harry and I had managed to talk to the two of them naturally a couple of times. I was improving.

The ball itself was wonderful. Poor Neville had two left feet and kept standing on my toes, but it didn't really matter. He was a lovely guy, made me feel at ease and was very, very sweet. I was never going to fall in love with someone like this, but he was definitely friend material. I was really pleased I had gone with him as it had opened my horizons out a little. I was able to see that guys other than my brothers and Colin with his boy crush on Harry were people too and I could talk to them and be friends and it didn't have to be romantic. It was a revelation, and it did change how I approached Harry.

The other thing that happened at the ball was a meeting with a Ravenclaw boy, who I thought was rather cute in a nerdy kind of way. But then Harry was a little nerdy looking too. Maybe that was what I was drawn to. Neville and I had ended up sitting at a table with some Ravenclaws and that was where I met him. Michael Corner was sweet too, and he played quidditch. We got on like a house on fire, discussing the world cup, which house team had the best chance of winning the cup this year if quidditch hadn't been cancelled, and our respective studies. I didn't get that dance with Harry and I didn't even miss it. While talking with Michael and dancing with Neville I looked over at Harry and Ron a few times and they didn't seem like they were having much fun. _More fool them_, I thought with a grin. At least Neville knew how to have a good time. From then on my obsession with the mighty Harry Potter began to wane. It never went away entirely; I don't think any of us ever really get over that first crush, especially when he's still right there all the time. But I was able more and more to see him as a person, and not just as a boy. I kept meeting up with Michael and we would have long chats in the courtyard between classes, and I would seek out Neville to hang out with in the common room a little more often. Yep, the Ball really did make a change in my life, and it was definitely for the better.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 21: The second task

The one way in which I did still obsess over Harry was in regards to the Triwizard Tournament. I was really freaked out about him still. He had done brilliantly in the first task and I don't think anyone could doubt his bravery or his skill, but the second task was sure to be a different kettle of fish. I had weaselled out of Hermione that he had some clue in the egg thing to work out to make it into the second task. I remembered the hideous wailing that had emanated from the egg when he opened it after the first task and figured it was something to do with that but I knew he hadn't bothered to try again since then. Well, who could blame him really? It did sound like the Hounds of Hell were coming after you when it was opened. I wouldn't want to expose my ears to that again any time soon, and I knew Harry wouldn't either. Still, something that Hermione said casually one day rang in my ears every time I saw Harry slacking off, and he did that a lot. Since he was excused from exams he had neglected his work shamefully, as if exams were the only reason to learn anything. Stupid git, but never mind. He could and should have been working on that clue and yet I knew he wasn't. Hermione had mentioned that the tasks were bound to get harder as they went on so he shouldn't get complacent. I knew she was probably right and I was worried that he seemed to have drifted away from concentrating on it. After all, no-one knew yet who had put his name in the Goblet. And there must have been _some_ reason to go to that trouble.

During my times with Michael or talking with Neville I would see Harry wandering around with a dark look on his face and inevitably somewhere in the vicinity Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory would be making googly eyes at each other. I thought they were cute together, both of them so very beautiful and tall. They seemed designed for each other, but it seemed that Harry didn't share that feeling. I was, of course, a teeny bit jealous of Cho. She had looks and brains and Harry's devotion, but it was becoming slowly more and more clear to me that Michael was interested in me and having someone so cute after me did dampen the pain I felt over Harry being in love with some other girl, by a lot. But what _did_ concern me about the situation was that he was very obviously neglecting working on his clue because of it. I wanted to slap some sense into him, but I knew that coming from me it would seem petty and as a result of fan girl jealousy, so I bit my tongue about it.

However, I did approach Hermione. She was sitting outside one day watching Harry wander around broodingly. I figured she at least would know I wasn't fan girling him any more, because she was one of the few people I had told about becoming interested in Michael a little. So, I took the chance.

'He seems very tense, don't you think?' I said, nodding towards Harry.

'Yeah, well. He has that next task coming up in February.'

'So, you don't think it's something else?'

She looked at me shrewdly. 'You mean like him being infatuated with Cho Chang? It's possible. Why do you ask?'

I sighed in exasperation. Why oh why did she think I was only about the Cho thing?

'No, or at least not for the reason you think.'

She smirked at me. 'Well then, why?'

'Because he hasn't worked out that clue, I'm sure of it and it's because he's all wrapped up in her. Look at him; all he does is glare murderously at Cedric. He's not focussed on the task, and you know you said it would likely be harder, and …' I trailed off and looked at her earnestly. 'I may like Michael now, but I still care about him, and it's still dangerous and I just wish you'd ask him about how he's going with the clue.'

She had been trying to cut in to my impassioned speech for a while, and when I finally ran to a stop she was able to get a word in.

'He told me he's got it mostly worked out, but I could ask him again I guess. Anyway, why can't you do it?'

'Because if I do it I look like the jealous fan girl still. And while I know that's not true, he's not likely to take me seriously. Not about something to do with a girl.'

'I guess you're right' she sighed.

I have no idea if that was successful at all, but at least I had tried. All I could do now was wait and hope he got it sorted out in plenty of time to get ready for the task ahead. As the date to the task grew ever closer I saw Harry suddenly switch from brooding angst-ridden teen mode and move into feverish 'need to study hard for a test' mode, which made me fearful. It looked like he may not have finished that task after all. His studies got quickly more and more feverish as well so it must not be going terribly well. This made me panic a little for him. But I did have faith he could pull something off and just so long as he made it through the task it couldn't matter if he was winning or losing or whatever. He just had to make it through was all. I sent strengthening thoughts his way: _just get through it in one piece Harry,_ I thought to him. _Just get there_. I didn't know if it would do any good but I hoped it would get him through. Being on the same wavelength as him could be annoying at times, because I could tell he was anxious about it and that he needed all the support he could get and yet I had no way of giving him the support he needed because of our history.

I went down to the task with Neville because Ron and Hermione were inexplicably missing, and told Michael I'd see him there. I was pretty sure he'd wanted to go with me as a date but I figured we hadn't known each other long enough and as I was getting reasonably serious about him I wanted to be sure he was serious too. I was only 13 after all. I didn't want to rush into a relationship, even with a guy as sweet, athletic and nice looking as Michael was. He accepted that and was perfectly happy helping me out that way; I was more and more impressed by him when I realised he was willing to take things as slowly as I wanted to. I figured maybe after this task we could look at venturing into a more romantic place, but right then I was too worried about the daft idiot Harry Potter who had _still_ seemed a little nervous last night.

As Neville and I got down to the pitch I could see that Harry was nowhere to be seen. He was meant to be at the lake's edge with the other competitors but while I could see Krum there looking morose and Fleur looking supercilious, and Cedric looking handsome and calm, Harry wasn't there at all. I looked around; there were only 10 minutes to go before the task was due to start. Where could he possibly be? Suddenly I saw him running from the direction of the castle. Wherever he had been it hadn't been kind to him. He looked completely wiped out. He was pale and there were large bags under his eyes. Worst of all he still looked like he didn't have a clue. I wondered what had put the wild look in his eyes. But then an announcement by Dumbledore clenched my heart with fear and made it very clear why he looked so anxious.

'The second task is almost upon us.' His voice rang out over the grounds. 'And we have taken that which each competitor will miss most if it is lost. That is, we have taken the person each one will be most saddened to see disappear. Mr Diggory is to collect Miss Chang.' A few catcalls rang out at that, and some good natured jeers were called out. Cedric just smiled serenely and looked focussed on the task ahead. 'Miss Delacour will be retrieving her sister, Gabrielle.' Fleur waved benignly at the crowd as they clapped for her. 'Mr Potter will be asked to return Mr Ron Weasley to us here on the beach' _no surprises there_ I rolled my eyes at myself. 'And Mr Krum will be collecting Miss Granger.' A moment of silence then some very loud catcalls and nervous giggling erupted around the stands. Krum looked much as usual, solemn and gruff. Hermione? I thought to myself? Krum liked her that much? I'd have to ask her what went on at the ball for him to miss her so much. Grinning to myself I turned and looked back at the competitors. As they lined up to go collect their hostages I suddenly realised what it meant. My brother, my friend and two other people (even if one was Cho Chang I didn't wish any ill will on her) were at the bottom of the lake. And the competitors had an hour to go and find them. Now I was really urging Harry on. Come on Harry, I thought. You have to get my brother out of there. Logically I knew Dumbledore wouldn't put the students at true risk, but they were still underwater for a long time and something could still go wrong.

After the whistle had blown and they all dived into the lake I was tense for a really long time. But it was one of those things that can't last forever, you know. It's impossible to be truly tense when for all intents and purposes nothing is happening. We had no way of knowing what was going on down in the lake, and so it actually got a little boring. The only interesting event was Fleur Delacour getting chased back to the surface by the grindylows, and she looked far more human than she had before because she was very, very worried about her little sister. I liked her far more during that time than I ever had before, as the vulnerability she showed made her seem more likable and definitely more human.

I chatted with Neville and Michael and we had a great time even through my worry about Hermione and Ron. I think they could tell I was nervous and they both did a great job of cheering me up and keeping my mind off the fate of those 'hostages' with a whole bunch of silly jokes and, in Michael's case, a lot of quidditch talk. We both abused the school for not keeping quidditch going during the Tournament especially with someone like Viktor Krum here. It seemed criminal to waste his talents and not let him show us some of his skills. But perhaps that was why they had cancelled, we decided in the end. It really wasn't fair to hound him so very much while he had the Tournament to prepare for.

Sooner than I had thought possible the hour was almost up and tension began to rise amongst the spectators again. We were all waiting to see who would get to the surface first with his hostage. The time limit that Dumbledore had produced in the air with gold fire clicked over to a negative and we all sighed in sadness. None of them had managed to get their hostage and get back within the time limit. Just then there was a stir in the water and Cedric broke the surface and dragged Cho up with him. She looked dazed and unsure where she was but otherwise unharmed. Some of the worry I had been feeling about Hermione and Ron dissipated. But I knew I wouldn't be fully at ease until Harry was back hopefully with Ron in tow. Krum came next bringing Hermione up with him and she blushed rosy red as the crowd went nuts again about the fact that she was the person he would miss most.

A hush fell over the crowd again really quickly though. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Krum pull Hermione aside and begin whispering earnestly to her and the colour she already was grew even stronger as she nodded looking up at him. But I couldn't concentrate on her. My own brother was still in the water and so was Harry. Fleur made us all recall that her sister was down there too. She was sobbing on the shoulder of one of the other girls from her school, her eyes fixed fervently on the lake and desperate hope in her eyes. Eventually what we had all been waiting for happened, and Harry finally resurfaced. Now that he was back I rolled my eyes in exasperation; he had gone and brought back the little girl as well as Ron. I did feel a stab of jealousy as I saw Fleur swoop down on Harry and kiss him all over for 'saving' her sister. Harry just did another one of his smirks at me as he read this. So OK, I'll admit it again. She didn't kiss him _all over_, it was just that French thing on the cheeks, but at the time it felt like it was a hundred kisses, each one replaying in my memory over and over. It was only Michael, seeing me shiver and placing his warm cloak around my shoulders that made me come back to myself. Why was I jealous of Harry when I had such a great guy interested in me, anyway? I smiled up at him, feeling much better.

Soon Dumbledore announced the winner of the task. Cedric of course was awarded the most points because he had come the closest to being in time. But Harry, who had returned last, was given high marks a for his determination to make sure that all the hostages, not just Ron (I saw several people rolling their eyes at him for that one, Hermione significant among them) and we all left the lake with the knowledge that the two Hogwarts champions, the two underdogs from the beginning, were both now tied for first place. We had a shot at winning this thing and for the first time I allowed myself to think that Harry might be able to win. It would be cool if an underage student took it out. That would show that the age restriction was unnecessary and hopefully if it was played in the future we might all get a shot at becoming champion. So it was that I walked slowly back to the castle with Michael, Neville having gone off with Seamus and Dean Thomas because he was annoyed with Michael and I for talking so much about quidditch. I didn't mind. I rather liked being alone with Michael these days.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 22: The Final Task

As soon as I could I dragged Hermione aside and asked her the burning question: what the heck had she got up to with Krum to make him miss her so much. Blushing the brightest red I'd ever seen her get, she admitted to having kissed him a few times, and that it was 'nice' and he was a really nice guy and she really liked him. After the task in the lake he had asked her to come visit his home for the holidays and she was seriously considering it. Reading between the lines I think she was considering going to see him if a certain daft Weasley hadn't woken up to himself and shown a bit more interest now he did, in fact, realise she was a girl.

With the final task approaching things were getting interesting around the school. Of course, since we were still friendish even if I was trying to do my best to take on Hermione's advice, I was concerned about Harry and still wondering why his name was put in that goblet. Nothing had happened to him yet and so my worry and confusion over that was rising. Why had his name been put in if not to target him, and if he had been targeted why had it not panned out yet? On the other hand, with him tied for first with Cedric and the rumour, soon confirmed, that the final task was going to consist of facing obstacles in a maze, I finally began to think there was a strong possibility that Harry would make it through and possibly even be able to win it. This would be no worse than things he'd faced in the past, for example going after the Philosopher's Stone. And, even better, he would be free once it was over. Really, I decided he didn't need my worry anymore so I felt free to stop worrying quite so very much.

This nice piece of talking myself into complacency over Harry left me free to explore my new obsession, Michael Corner. Things were progressing nicely between us and one beautiful sunny day close to the third task he sat me down on a bench in one of the courtyards with a serious look on his face. Imaging I knew what was coming and deciding to ignore the look I asked him cheerfully 'What's up?'

'Um … Ginny, you know we have a good time together, right?'

'Yeah' I nodded, intrigued. This seemed very promising.

'Well, um, I really like you and I think you like me too, and I was wondering if you'd be my girlfriend.' It all came out in a rush at the end, as he was clearly quite nervous.

Oh wow. It really was actually here. He actually wanted to go out with me. I could feel a goofy grin spreading across my face. Seeing it, his face broke into an equally goofy one too, and we kind of stared at each other goofily for a while before I remembered to answer him. It took him clearing his throat to bring me back to myself.

'OK, sure' I said breathlessly, not really sure what would come next.

The look in his eyes changed subtly and he scooted a little closer to me, took my hand and leaned over to press his lips against mine. The earth didn't move, choirs of angels didn't sing and I didn't hear an upswelling of orchestral music. But it _was_ nice, like Hermione had described it, and when he quickly pulled away I had liked it enough to want another go at it. So I moved forward and kissed him back. It was all very chaste; apart from our lips the only thing touching were our hands. And our times together remained like that for a long time. I was after all only 13, he was only 14 and this was the first relationship either of us had experienced. It wasn't until next year that I even put my arms around his neck to kiss him. Mr Jealousy sitting next to me here is muttering about it, but since he wasn't interested at the time he can't really complain that someone else got there first.

A few days later it was time for the final Triwizard task. I met Michael in the Entrance Hall and we headed down to the pitch together, but roundly abusing what they had done to the quidditch pitch to achieve their maze. I knew that both Harry and Cedric were also appalled because I heard Harry complaining bitterly about it a month ago when they were shown what was going to happen. We had been assured that it would all be returned to normal after the tournament, but that didn't stop all the quidditch players and all us avid supporters from being horrified at what had been done. Despite this major travesty on the part of the organisers my spirits were high as I moved down to the pitch that day. I was looking forward to seeing the last task and earnestly hoping that Harry, or at the very least Cedric, would take it out and assure a Hogwarts victory. I held tight to Michael's hand but other than that I didn't really think about him at all. Once again I was focussed on Harry, but this time it was just as an interested observer and not as an obsessed uber fan. Hermione was right; I had become more myself just by seeing the good in other boys.

Dumbledore explained the competition, announced the competitors and set them off into the maze. I remembered back to the first task and how exciting it was to watch, if a little scary at times. It seemed a little pointless to have spectators at these last 2 tasks, however, because neither time could we see anything. From where we sat, close to the front of one of the stands, I could see as Harry and Cedric entered the maze, but then, whether by accident or by some design of the maze itself, they disappeared quickly from view. After a few minutes Krum was allowed in and then Fleur. After that for the spectators it was silence and boredom for what seemed like hours. The only relief from the tedium were the red speaks that were sent up for both Fleur and Krum, signalling that each had pulled out of the task. That did cause a stir, of course, because it meant that no matter what happened it would be a Hogwarts victory.

Now I want you to really think about this carefully. We know from the account in Harry's biography that he and Cedric were transported via the Triwizard Cup to a distant graveyard where Cedric was immediately killed. Take a moment to let it sink in just how _dreadful_ this is. Cedric was being murdered and we were all bored. We sat there chattering about school and exams and people were snogging their boyfriends and girlfriends (though not me and Michael because I really didn't want Ron to find out about us just yet). Cedric was lying cold and dead, Voldemort was reborn, Harry was fighting for his life and we all sat there bored, waiting for something to happen and doing typical teenage stuff. I sometimes wonder why I didn't feel something bad was going to happen, but I had no idea. I was all tied up in my new relationship and I just didn't have a clue. No-one did. The teachers were patrolling the perimeter of course but it was a fairly leisurely stroll they were taking and when they crossed paths they would stop and chat with each other and occasionally share a laugh. There was a desultory feeling to the whole thing. Everyone knew it was almost over and all we really cared about was knowing who had won.

Eventually, however, the whispered conversations between the teachers became more urgent and they were starting to gesticulate into the maze. People in the stands were getting anxious too. Krum had been near the centre of the maze when his sparks went up. At least one of the others ought to have gotten to the centre by now. Surely? My tension level began to rise with the urgency of the teachers' conversations. I remembered again that Harry hadn't volunteered for this and that someone wanted him in this tournament for a reason. What if this was it? What if something had happened to him in there? What if Harry was … but no, I wasn't even going to let myself _think_ that. My heart was clenched in fear once again and all I wanted was for Harry to come out of that maze in one piece and preferably soon. Michael was clutching my hand tightly; I think he felt the tension in me rising and caught some of it himself.

Just then he did appear and a huge cheer went up and the whole crowd celebrated for a few seconds until we all slowly noticed that something was wrong. The Triwizard Cup was in his hand as expected but he seemed to be holding on to an unnaturally still Cedric. Teartracks marked his cheeks and he was refusing to let go of Cedric, which seemed weird. Dumbledore, who seemed to realise faster than the rest of us what was happening, was talking to him earnestly and Harry was shaking his head and seemed to be crying. A whisper began at the front of the stands and began to rise through the crowd like a torrent.

'Diggory. Diggory's dead. He's dead.'

And then, softer than the other, reaching only to those of us in the front, was a murmur that rippled through the teachers' ranks.

'He says You Know Who's back. He says he did it.' I literally felt like my heart had stopped in my chest and turned to bury my face in Michael's shoulder. I had known, on a subconscious level at least, that Harry _wasn't_ normal, that he would be facing some horrible things in his life because of what happened to him as a baby. I figured that if You Know Who ever did come back that he would target Harry again just because he wanted to wipe out the remains of the shame of having allowed a curse to go wrong. My parents believed Dumbledore on the matter and I had overheard enough of their conversations to know what was likely. I also kind of knew that Harry was tied to Voldemort somehow. But I had never, even in my worst nightmares, imagined that Harry would be there when he returned to a full body. And seeing Harry there looking so distraught I was overwhelmed once more with the realisation that he was just a 14 year old boy. Again I had lost sight of that, expecting that he would just cope as he always had with all that was thrown at him. But this was just one thing too much, and he looked lost.

The full horror of the moment crashed in on me and I realised the finality of Cedric being dead, of Harry having witnessed it and of the terror that accompanied the murmur that Voldemort might be back. I watched numbly as Moody led a shell shocked Harry away from Cedric's body and as Cedric's parents, screaming with horror, made their way down from the stand to him. I will never, I am sure, forget the sound as they reached the body of their son. Their anguish was so palpable on their faces as they saw it was true that I had to turn away again. All around me people were beginning to sob as it sank in that one of our own was truly dead. It was a very sombre group that returned to the castle that evening and prepared to face the unbearable truth.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 23: Cedric

The rumours were rife in the castle that night. No-one saw Harry, but Ron and Hermione came back to the common room after seeing him in the hospital wing and they were immediately besieged by requests to know what he had said and how he had acted. Hermione, looking a little smug, excused herself quickly leaving Ron to deal with the desperate questions everyone had. He cast her a dark and annoyed look and told them, in a way he seemed to have learned by rote, that Harry hadn't said anything, that Dumbledore knew it all and that he was going to talk to the school sometime tomorrow. He looked uncomfortable and ill at ease, and people soon left him alone because it was obvious he wasn't going to spill all the beans, in fact that he couldn't because he didn't know any beans to spill.

Hermione was soon back and they both made their way over to where I was sitting. I had left Michael in the Entrance Hall because I needed to be alone for a little bit, and I was sitting curled into myself on a couch at the back of the common room. I wasn't truly alone, no. But people were letting me be and even though I was surrounded by people I was alone enough. But when Ron and Hermione came over I welcomed them.

'How is he?' I asked the question that was uppermost in my thoughts.

'He's … not the greatest,' said Hermione, then seeing the look that must have crossed my face she added in a very low voice 'Sirius is with him, though. He'll be OK, just needs time.'

I nodded, relieved but still worried about Harry. I was pleased to hear that Sirius was with him. While I hadn't met him yet I knew he'd been in touch with Harry through the year and was looking out for him. There was no-one better to be with him right now, but I kept seeing the pain and horror on the face that left here along with Moody. At that thought I asked them where he had taken him and why it had all taken so long. They exchanged dark looks and explained how 'Moody,' the professor we all knew, wasn't Moody at all but was rather the Death Eater who got Harry into this mess to start with and was the one who'd put his name in the goblet. I was shocked, and even more so when they explained that he had tried to kill Harry after he had taken him away. I couldn't imagine the pain he must have been through tonight. First he had to watch a boy killed in front of him, then he had to see the most feared wizard of our time return to a body and then fight him for his very life and _then_ he learned that a man he trusted implicitly was the enemy and had engineered it and tried to kill him again. I bled for him. And even more so after Ron excused himself for the night looking sick at heart, and Hermione confided in me how Harry had broken down in Mum's arms. We both knew he would hate to have that as a source of gossip, but she was so heartsick over it all that she had to talk to someone about it too and while Ron had been there she didn't feel that this was something either he or Harry would want canvassed between them. But Hermione and I had talked through all this sort of stuff since she first stayed at the Burrow, and were comfortable telling each other things, knowing it would go no further. We talked for hours, and eventually Hermione brought the conversation around to something more cheerful.

'So, you have a boyfriend.' She said it matter of factly but it still made me blush. I nodded.

'When were you going to tell me?'

'Well, soon. It's only so new I didn't know how to really say anything. And please don't tell Ron, you know how he'd get'

She rolled her eyes and nodded vigorously.

'He seems nice' she said approvingly. 'And I'm glad you're getting out there and forgetting about the Harry crush for a bit.'

I finally laughed a little. 'Yeah. I'm giving up on him, at least for now. He's not interested and Michael is. And he's so nice and we can talk about anything, so yeah. No more Harry crush for me.' I was trying hard to believe it, especially after the way I almost felt his pain myself tonight, and I'm sure Hermione could hear that note in my voice because she just smiled at me and said 'I'm glad' again. We talked for a little longer and then, both feeling wiped out by the day, we went up to bed.

Next day at lunch as we were all gathered in the Great Hall, Dumbledore got up to make an announcement. He said he wasn't going to talk about Cedric just yet, that our pain was too new and too raw and he would honour him at our Leaving Feast. In the meantime he asked us not to bother Harry when he got out of the hospital wing that evening, that he had been through a terrible ordeal and watched a fellow student get killed and that he needed to be left alone for a bit to process it without interference. We all nodded solemnly, and the only people who seemed to resent the idea were the Slytherins who had always been so down on Harry anyway. Their attitudes made me so angry. I may have 'given up on Harry' but I still cared about him. I found it unendurable that he had been through so much in his life and kept having this stuff thrown at him.

My feelings increased ten fold when I saw him that evening. He was sitting quietly with Ron and Hermione and he just looked like he had no real idea where he was or what he was doing. He looked pretty much exactly like those pictures in muggle books of shell shocked soldiers. I guess that was reasonable given what he had been through. The image I had conjured in my head of him being comforted by my Mum kept crashing down on me as I watched him, and I was glad that he'd at least had Mum and Sirius there with him that first night. I really thought what he needed was love and support and since Ron and Hermione were giving him ample I stayed away. I ached for him, but my time was still occupied by my new boyfriend who I saw frustratingly little of over the next little while.

Since I had 'given up on' Harry and had Michael I was making huge inroads on talking to Harry as a friend though. I may not have been one of his chosen few but I know I was appreciated and I always tried to lighten him up with a little joke maybe or funny anecdote. He seemed to enjoy them anyway and I was happy to help him out. But as the time drew nearer to the Leaving Feast he grew more and more withdrawn, til eventually I didn't bother trying to get through to him. Hermione and Ron seemed to be all he wanted or needed and that was fine by me. No, really it was. I was so wrapped up in my romance that sadness over Harry was really on my back burner. I was sad for him the way I was sad for any of my friends who were going through a hard time, but I didn't burn with it like I had in the past. I truly was getting past my obsession with him. Stealing hours with Michael was more important to me at the time.

And so it came to the Leaving Feast itself. The Hall was covered in black hangings and it made my throat ache once more, thinking of Cedric and what he had been through. It was so hard to think that he should have been here as the triumphant winner of the Triwizard Tournament and instead was cold in a grave. I made my way slowly to the Gryffindor table; as I passed the Ravenclaw table and the Hufflepuff one I could see the sad tired faces there. Cho Chang was crying; she had been his girlfriend and she looked devastated, and all the Hufflepuffs were so doleful. Cedric had been their hero. He had been a great quidditch player and he had been their champion. They looked about as shell shocked as Harry still did at times, as if neither they nor he could believe what had happened. Dumbledore stood up as we all took our seats.

He spoke of Cedric, of his bravery and dedication, his fairness and hard work. Then he shocked us all. I knew this of course, having heard the murmur that day on the pitch but for most people this announcement came as a shock.

'His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think you have a right, therefore to know exactly how it came about.'

I was sitting close to Harry and I heard him gasp as Dumbledore said that. I looked over at him and his face was white and he was staring at Dumbledore in shock. I think he'd expected to be left out of this. But Dumbledore ploughed on.

'Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.'

The gasps echoed through the Great hall. Dumbledore continued by talking about Harry, about what he'd done and how we all needed to come together closer with ties of friendship and joy. All around us I noticed that more people were staring at Harry. It had become common lately to see that happen, but now that Dumbledore had singled him out and made his part in this situation clear he was the recipient of renewed speculation and wonder. I could see that it bothered him, but he put the best face on it that he could. Sadly I decided that I couldn't help him. My history as fan girl was too recent and too ingrained for him to see me as anything but one of the starers if I tried to help him right now, so I withdrew my eyes purposefully and focussed on Michael.

We spent the evening together walking around the grounds. I was really tired these days, all the emotions of the past week or so being wrung out of me, and Michael was very sweet through it all. He held my hand, allowed me to talk about whatever I needed to talk about, and he was just a very relaxing, comfortable person to be with. The next day dawned and I was faced for the first time in my life of leaving an actual boyfriend on the train. I explained to him that I didn't want Ron to tease me about a relationship, or get all brotherly protective of me (either of which was a possible reaction to finding out I was going out with someone) and Michael was very understanding. We found a compartment all to ourselves and he made sure no-one else joined us. It was a weird trip. We were normal with each other but every time we touched there was a new frisson there, as if we knew that it could be the last and we had to make the most of it. I was unsure how to go about actually saying goodbye, but he managed to make sure that we had one last goodbye kiss in the compartment, promised to write to me, extracted a promise from me to write to him, and waved me off the train and into Mum and Dad's arms before getting off himself.

Apart from still feeling residual sadness for myself, and worry that Voldemort was in fact back, I was reasonably happy with my life. But I still felt a pang as I saw how miserable Harry was as he walked back to his uncle's car outside the station. I knew, because Mum had been very vocal about not liking it, that he was to remain with his relatives for as much of the summer as possible so he wouldn't even have the relief of coming to see us at our house. Oh well, nothing I could do about it though. I didn't think even my patented Ginny pestering would work this time. All I could hope for him was, I figured, to get people to send as many letters as they could. Reminding Ron to write to him would be a service I figured; not at all anything romantic. Just … helping a friend get over a terrible ordeal.

_A/N so there you have it again, the end of 3__rd__ year. There will likely be a little break before her 4__th__ year goes up as I'm having troubles getting events pinned down and in the right order. They keep mutating on me, but as soon as I have it all straight I'll be back with more. Shouldn't be more than a few days so thanks for your patience._


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N So here we are again. I think I have everything in the right order now, at least up to the middle of the book. I'll keep working on it and hopefully there won't be much I need __to change in the later chapters. There may be a break in the middle, but I hope not. Anyways, enjoy :D_

_Thanks to all who have reviewed and for all your patience with waiting._

**Section 4: fourth year**

Chapter 24: Grimauld Place

After Dumbledore had quickly resurrected the Order of the Phoenix at the end of last year we spent the summer, not at the Burrow as usual, but rather at the Order's new headquarters. At first I was scared to be in the same place as Sirius Black. I knew from Harry that he wasn't the great evil monster he'd been painted but his legend was almost as well known as Voldemort's and Harry's and it was really hard to let go of those 'truths' and accept that he was really and truly one of the good guys. I tried not to let it show too much but it wasn't long before he had sat me down kindly and had a little chat.

'You're not happy here are you?' I finally looked at him properly and he had kind eyes, so I nodded.

'I miss the space at home' I said. 'The space to run around outside, to get a broom out.'

'It's not much fun being cooped up I know' he said, and a fleeting look of sadness crossed his face. 'But it's safer here for people who are opposing the Ministry.'

'I know' I said, 'I just wish …'

He nodded sympathetically. 'And it's not the prettiest of houses either, is it?' I almost giggled as I said 'Not really.'

He said, 'Well, look. I know it's hard and it sucks and it's not fair, but can you think of it as helping Harry?' I looked up suspiciously, wondering if he was making fun of me, but there was nothing but sincere kindness in his eyes.

'What do you mean?' I asked instead.

'You've seen what they've been writing about him.'

Had I ever! I was almost constantly in a rage over the horrible stuff they'd been printing about him in the Daily Prophet, so I nodded again.

'Well, we here in this house are fighting to rectify that. To show them he's not lying, that he and Dumbledore are telling the truth. Staying here is fighting for his cause. Does that make it any easier?'

To my surprise I realised it really did. And from that moment on I wasn't scared of Sirius anymore either. Anyone who had Harry's welfare at heart as much as he did had to be one of the good guys.

From then on I was happier and about once a week I received a letter from Michael. He was a really great letter writer, witty and interesting and I was always left smiling after I received them. He had somehow managed to ensure that I only got the letters when I was in my room, so only Hermione and I knew he was sending them. I was just reading one of them and laughing happily when Hermione rushed into the room in a right state. She had been with us almost since the start of the holidays because her parents had gone to a conference and they wanted her to have more exposure to the wizarding world she was going to inhabit. I smiled at her and was about to ask her what was wrong when she gasped out her news.

'Harry's almost been expelled!'

'What?'

'He used the patronus on some dementors.'

'In Surrey? There were dementors in Surrey?'

'Yes, oh and they're sending some Order members to go get him, and he's in so much trouble. He has to go to a hearing at the ministry.'

'A hearing? Why?' All thought of Michael and his letter had been crashed out of my mind by this.

'Because he was expelled, but that's been revoked because they have to do a proper hearing about underage magic.' She started pacing. 'I can't believe he did something so stupid.'

'Well, I can. He's been shut up in that hole with those dreadful Muggles all summer and you all have been writing letters with no information in, and you know how he feels about that.' She nodded. His bitterness seeped out of every line of his letters. 'Plus, if there were dementors what else what he meant to do?'

'Oh, I don't know, but it was reckless and stupid.'

Oh yes it was. And once again I thrilled to it. Of course I was worried about him and the hearing coming up, but the fact that he had managed to fight off dementors, and the fact that he had got away with it, well probably got away with it, just impressed me mightily.

As expected, a few days later Harry arrived at Grimauld Place (our new home for the duration). It wasn't exactly the reintroduction that I expected but it certainly wasn't hard to know he was in the house. The Order members were all tucked up downstairs in the kitchen so I doubt they heard him, but the rest of us copped a right earful. Oh he had a right head of steam up by the time I got to the bedroom. It was fairly glorious to hear him actually; after being stuck with those muggle idiots for so long I guess he had some things he needed to get out. I just barged my way in to the room where they all were. Fred and George, who had obviously heard him too, were already there; they'd probably apparated in and Ron and Hermione looked like they'd been hit with a tidal wave. Well, really, that wasn't the way to deal with a shouter, hadn't Ron learned anything from listening to Mum? Deflect the anger, tell a joke, seriously.

'Oh, hello, Harry! I thought I heard your voice.' Nice subtle hint at: 'as if anyone could have missed it' there. I could tell he heard the unspoken line because he looked a little uncomfortable when he greeted me. I turned my attention to the twins and we tried to figure out a way to overhear the secret meeting. But sadly there was a no go on the extendable ears the boys had been working on. Imperturbable charms. I sighed; Mum knew us just too well.

I could see Harry struggling with his anger but I knew if he tried to light up again I'd just talk him down. I couldn't believe the others didn't do that last time. So instead we all talked about what had been going on at our end while Harry was off breaking wizarding law. Percy of course was dragged into it. Our great git of a brother who had so spectacularly ditched the family in favour of his Ministry aspirations. Mum was still prone to cry over him, and I was angry as a hatter at him too. We had lots of fun abusing him for his daft ideas and of course what the Daily Prophet had been saying about Harry had been dragged in there. He'd had no clue they were putting him down so badly and I truly expected another angry outburst but it didn't come; he was remarkably restrained though he sure looked like he wanted to light up again. One thing I did notice was that Hermione seemed almost scared of Harry when he was in this sort of temper, and that did no-one any good at all. Maybe I should have a chat with her about how to deal with angry people. That thought almost made me giggle; me giving Hermione advice on dealing with one of her best friends seemed incongruous but … she really did need to learn to stand up to him. There was no point letting him get so crazy that he was no fun to be around. I understood his anger to a point, yes, but honestly shouting at your mates isn't the best way to deal with it. Well, not after you've got past your first well-deserved vent anyway. Anyway about then Mum came and called us all for dinner and we all headed downstairs in groups.

After dinner Sirius basically told Harry that he could ask any question he liked about the Order and its activities, and we all pricked up our ears eager to be in on it and somehow they all managed to talk their way into being allowed to hear it all, except Mum sent me off to bed like the stupid little kid she thought I was. I didn't go quietly I can tell you. I revelled in a hugely angry shout fest all the way up the stairs. Yeah, remember, one well-deserved vent is fine, and I took full advantage of mine. I think there was a heap of stuff about 'I hate you' and 'I want to know' and 'it's not fair' etc. It was very immature but hey. It was my only means of release at that point, and, as we all saw from Harry's earlier attempt, shouting in that house had a very conciliatory effect. It could be heard all over, so I knew they would get the full benefit of my feelings on the matter. I took the only revenge available to me. Good thing I wasn't interested in Harry right then because frankly he would likely have seen me as really petulant.

Thankfully, Hermione is a great believer in fair play and she thought it was unfair that I hadn't been included in the discussion so she dished all the dirt as soon as she got back to the room we were sharing.

'So, tell me, what did they say?'

'OK' she was struggling to get into her pyjamas while talking to me, so her voice was sometimes muffled. 'First, though. That was some impressive shouting.'

I giggled. 'Just trying to be ready in case Harry needs competition at shouting practice.'

We both dissolved in giggles, and then she began telling me all about it. Apparently Harry had ruined Voldemort's plans by not dying

'Damn good show, too' I muttered when she said that, and she grinned at me and carried on talking. And so while many were still in denial (and here we roundly abused the Ministry officials who were ignoring Voldemort's return) Harry was there to continuously bear testimony. The fact that he was sticking by his story was making both Voldemort and the Ministry very nervous so they were trying to discredit him. My blood boiled but I still felt a fierce pride in him for being courageous enough to stick to his point even in the face of the opposition. He was going to need all the courage he could muster this year, though. The smear campaign lasted all year and at times it nearly did him in, but he kept at it. But I'm getting ahead of myself again. Whoops. But it's true. His strong sense of right and honour kept him from falling to their ideas. Hermione and I talked long into the night, long after we heard Mum come by and listen at the door to see if we were talking. Unlike the boys we weren't put off by that; we just stopped what we were saying for a few minutes til we were sure the coast was clear. Those times with Hermione were so much fun. I always wished I had a sister whenever we had those late night chats.

We spent the next several days just cleaning that wretched house. Sirius had been right, it was incredibly ugly and cleaning didn't seem to remove the oppressive feeling of it, but it did rid the place of most of the dark artefacts. I watched Harry over the next little while and I could tell he was really worried about Sirius, and I could see why. Sirius had taken to moping really badly. But who could blame him really? He had thought he'd got out of this mausoleum of a house and yet he hadn't; he'd been sucked right back in there, and he wasn't able to go out anywhere because of the whole Voldemort knowing his big dog disguise thing now. Oh wait. I don't think I told you about that. Way back in my second year the 'Grim' that Harry kept seeing everywhere was actually Sirius in his animagus form keeping an eye on Harry. It was really sweet really, but when Peter Pettigrew escaped and Voldemort had returned of course Peter'd told him all about his old friends Sirius and Lupin. And so Sirius was no longer safe since he was technically still an escaped dangerous prisoner. Harry and he got on really well that year mostly I think because they both felt trapped and confined and they both were accused of things they hadn't done and no-one would believe the truth about either of them. Plus they were both a bit bitter about it.

And so it finally came to the day we were all nervous about, though none of us really spoke about it much. Harry's hearing. Hermione had looked up every book under the sun and was convinced that he would get off, but it didn't stop the rest of us, and her if the truth be known, from worrying like mad about it. Harry himself was getting pale and tired looking again, so I knew he was worried about it too even though he put on silly boyish bravado and said he didn't care what happened. I knew he was lying.

The day he was due there I think Mum arranged it so that none of us were up when he left with Dad to go to the Ministry, and so the anxious wait for him to come home was dreadful. I didn't have any idea how he would have looked that day, if he looked nervous or whatever was going on and it bugged me a little not to have a sense of where he was at emotionally since I usually did. The hours seemed to drag on and we didn't expect him back til late that afternoon given the time of the hearing. So when Dad ushered him in at lunch time we were all shocked. He looked tired and paler than ever but there was a grin on his face. I was so excited that he had got off that when Fred and George started a kind of dance with a chant I joined in with abandon. 'He got off, he got off' we chanted whooping around the kitchen, expelling some of that nervous energy that had built up. And I was so relieved that I didn't really listen to the conversation Mum and Dad were having around us. But I did notice when Harry clutched his scar and winced. I pretended that I hadn't seen it, but it puzzled me. Why did he grab at the scar? And since Hermione seemed worried but not totally freaked out I decided it must have happened before. I wondered what it was about and why it might be happening. He certainly didn't seem to be _enjoying_ it. He looked positively sick after he dropped his hand from his head. The memory of that incident stayed with me and I kept a careful eye on him from then on. The scar clutching happened reasonably frequently now I was looking for it. It seemed to be something that hit during emotional stress from what I could see. The only other times I noticed it were when he was either very angry or very sad about something. But it also seemed like he didn't want attention called to it, so that day I carried on singing with Fred and George and then helped myself to food with a much lighter heart than I had before that day. At least we were still going to be school mates again.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 25: Umbridge

If we'd thought about it at all, we'd have expected a certain outcome as far as the prefect badges went. Ron was not on my list of possibilities, at all. I honestly had thought for sure Harry would get it. Hermione was a given, but Harry just seemed equally likely. He was the one who had single handedly, or almost single handedly, faced and survived some of the darkest things possible. So when Mum came screeching into the kitchen that day that Ron had been chosen prefect I was frozen. I had no idea what to say. I did wonder, fleetingly, how Harry might be feeling about this, and when they all came downstairs later I could tell Harry wasn't _quite_ happy. But he did a really great job of making it look like he didn't care. I don't think Ron noticed and part way through the impromptu party Mum got up Harry seemed to become much happier. It happened around about the time Sirius and Lupin talked about which people got made prefects when they were at school. It didn't take much to put 2 and 2 together and figure out that he realised that his dad hadn't been prefect either and he was still looked up to by most of his peer group. But Harry's good cheer seemed to dissipate almost as quickly as it came; as the evening wore on he got more and more morose looking and went up to bed not long after Mum went off to fight the boggart in the drawing room. I was concerned about him, a little; but when it came down to it Ron was my brother. While I hadn't expected it, I was proud of Ron even while secretly hoping they wouldn't pick me next year. I didn't want the responsibility that came with prefect ship, I wanted to be Fred and George-esque and just have fun, help people have a laugh. Who could do that properly if they were tied to being all responsible?

Anyways, even though I could tell Harry was a little down I was wrapped up in other things (yes, like Michael … I was desperate to see him again) so I kind of pushed Harry out of my mind as much as possible. I had been reasonably successful in focussing on things outside of him, and so I didn't pay too much attention to what he was going through. I pushed his moroseness out of my mind along with the memory of him clutching at his scar and concentrated on more mundane things. Next morning we were about to go off to school again and I realised I missed Michael more than I had expected. I got one final letter from him that evening that said he'd see me after the Welcoming Feast because there was going to be a Ravenclaw party on the train and unfortunately they weren't allowed outside people. I was disappointed, but in a way it was good that I was going to see him again for the first time in private. The idea of a reunion on the train seemed a little odd, and knowing it wouldn't happen made me feel much better, even though the extra hours without him seemed like they'd last forever.

I was humming to myself and thinking of Michael as I walked down the stairs with my trunk next morning and so I wasn't really paying attention to what was going on around me. Suddenly out of nowhere I was thumped in my back by something hard and heavy and that kept pushing me down the stairs. I landed in a heap at the bottom of two flights of stairs and the thing that had pushed me turned out to be a trunk that was still hovering above me. I felt winded and a little shaken, plus my back hurt like hell. Mum went nuts of course and while she was fixing me up she was screaming at the twins (who were the ones who had done it). Harry came down the stairs and asked me if I was OK. A few years back the question would have mortified me (there I was, needing help yet again) or possibly thrilled me (he was paying attention to me) but this time I just smiled and said yeah. In fact I had a ridiculous urge to laugh about it. I was touched by his concern of course, but Miss Dramatic actually took no notice of him; she was too busy mooning over what the reunion with Michael was going to be like. Now that I had actually kissed someone, my fantasies had become more realistic, and I was picturing a cosy meet up with my boyfriend happily all the way from Grimauld Place to the station.

Once we were there Ron and Hermione went off to do their prefect duties and so Harry, Neville and I got a compartment with Luna. I was really pleased, though I did wonder why she wasn't at the Ravenclaw party. Though maybe that was just for those in fifth year. I was so wrapped up in the idea of seeing Michael again that I didn't even really get a twinge when I saw Harry's very goofy face when Cho Chang came into our compartment part way through the trip. Neville had just unleashed his super powered plant killing machine (well OK, it wasn't that bad, but that thing's defence mechanism was very … intense) and we were all covered in slimy smelly green stuff. Poor Harry had copped it worse than anyone. He had it dripping from his head, and sliding off his glasses, making him look like a melting tree. Cho's eyes filled with mirth as she looked at us, but Harry looked mortified. He reminded me so forcibly of me back when I did stupid things around him that I was almost tempted to giggle. But I didn't. While the look on his face was priceless, I did have real sympathy for him; I remembered back to when I had an unrequited love and how sick I would feel when something like this happened. I had enough fellow feeling left for him that I stifled my amusement. I had a good time talking to Luna again and all in all the trip passed reasonably pleasantly … once we'd had all that stuff siphoned off us.

As we got to the Great Hall for the feast I spotted Colin and some other boys in my year and excused myself from Harry and the others to go and sit with them. I wasn't so obsessed with Harry anymore that I had to sit with or near him all the time. It felt good. I caught Michael's eye across the room and melted just a little bit seeing him. I was desperate for the feast to finish so I could go met up with him. Soon enough I was desperate for it finish for a totally different reason, because the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was making a really, really boring speech. Did I mention it was _really_ boring? I shuffled and shifted in my seat, whispered with Colin and basically ignored everything she said. I couldn't stand the way she looked all pink and puffy (though I'm sure my 11 year old self would have been ecstatic, given just how excited she had been over Lockhart's dreadful tastes back in first year). And her voice, high and breathy, was perfectly pitched to send us into a stupor. She had that 'make everyone around get tired and drift away' vibe that Binns put out in History of Magic. I could see this was going to be a great year, I thought sarcastically.

So it was that I completely missed the speech that Hermione 'drank in' according to Harry's account of the day. I had no feelings of foreboding or that the Ministry was trying to run Hogwarts. I was a little self absorbed, and so as soon as possible I rushed off to see Michael, not even thinking twice about what had just been said. I did notice in passing that all the new kids were giving Harry some terrified looks, and my blood boiled a little. Why could no-one see the truth behind the Daily Prophet's smear campaign? How could people think these things about Harry of all people? I pondered it on and off all through the next few weeks, but it wasn't the centre of my thoughts as it had been in the past. My boyfriend occupied that pride of place, as he should. Michael and I had a very nice reunion in a deserted corridor and I was so pleased to see him again after the absence that I did actually, very daringly, put my arms around his neck. Yes, I was a hormonal 14 year old and this kissing thing just kept getting better. Really, when it came down to it, who cared about boring teachers compared to that?

My satisfaction in my life quickly faded as we got to the Dark Arts classroom, and I saw just how important 'boring teachers' could be. The evil pink toad, as she had already been dubbed by the students, quickly made it clear that we weren't going to be doing anything practical in her class. I was gob smacked. How on earth is it possible to learn a spell properly without actually practising it. It was insanity for her to be thinking this way. And I knew it was Ok for us, but for the 5th and 7th years this was crazy. How were Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George meant to pass their OWLs and NEWTs if they couldn't practise the spells in advance? But that seemed to be the way she wanted to have it all set up. It was insane, but it was apparently the way it was going to be.

Gossip in the common room that night was wild though. Harry had, it seemed, yelled out in class that Voldemort had returned and been given an entire week's worth of detention. I rolled my eyes. It was such a Harry thing to do: say what you want and hang the consequences, but he really did sometimes need to think before acting. Oh I was still thrilled that he had the guts to stand up to injustice and insanity, but really. A teacher? Next thing we'd be hearing that he had sassed Snape out. Unfortunately everyone in the common room still believed the Prophet's version of things and so they all thought Harry was an attention seeking git. Well, not quite everyone. Us Weasleys and Hermione and Neville all didn't, but the rest seemed to be far too willing to believe the worst of someone they had spent so much time with. Harry, Ron and Hermione were all holed up in a corner of the room, but Harry was obviously tense whenever I looked that way. That was reasonable of course. If I was angry when hearing this stuff I could only imagine what he'd been putting up with all this time, and how he must feel about what they were saying. Well, how he was feeling was etched on his face; in general it's hard to read but the misery and anger there today were visible for all to see. Poor bloke. I spent the evening trying to think up good ways to make life difficult for Umbridge, but didn't come up with anything that she truly deserved. Still, I thought maybe the twins and I could come up with something to pay her back for this.

I went up to bed and listened to my roommates discussing Harry's arrogance and attention-seeking, nasty lies and I was overcome with rage. I told them I believed him and that they should too. I pointed out that no-one here had ever caught him in a lie about something like this and so why should we believe what a newspaper prints anyway. But I didn't convince them. All I did was make them pull together against me too. Oh well, no loss. I was hanging out mostly with Michael and his friends these days anyway, and when I was in Gryffindor common room I tended to sit with Neville or Colin rather than these girls. So I shrugged it off and resolved to keep up my campaign to prove Harry's honesty. He was one of the good guys; he didn't deserve this, and I was going to help him out.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 26: Recruiting the DA

The first few months of the year were awful but not so awful that we didn't just get over it and get on with life. To my immense disappointment, once again I couldn't try out for the quidditch team as I had managed to land myself in detention for asking why Umbridge wouldn't let anyone practise any spells. Yes, I did deserve it because I wasn't exactly the politest in the way I phrased it. OK I was quite rude and talked back to her. But at the time I thought she deserved it for the way she was dealing with the school. And back then I was consumed with anger at the old hag, especially when I realised I couldn't try out for the team … again.

But slowly Umbridge's presence became more and more disturbing. She was slowly and carefully shutting down everything that entertained the students. Only, we all noticed that the Slytherins were getting away with whatever they liked, while the rest of us, particularly the Gryffindors and most especially Harry, were being kept under ever tighter control. Things got particularly bad once she became the Hogwarts High Inquisitor and had the ability to pass judgement on the other teachers. I found her to get at least twice as smug and her classes to get at least twice as boring. Even the other teachers were getting dragged in to it; they could be seen whispering frantically together and gesticulating wildly, but they couldn't do anything. Umbridge had been granted unsurpassed power by the Ministry, and we all had to walk the line she set down for us, teachers included. All in all it was a really bad time, and there was a sense of restless expectancy in the air as if someone or something had to change. Michael, his friends and I all felt that if we were going to be under this oppression we needed to do something to make things a bit better. So we were all very receptive to the idea of an underground rebellion against toad face when we were first told about it.

I well remember the day we all met up in the Hogshead pub on the latest Hogsmeade weekend that year. I was still with Michael and we were still very happy, and so it was that I was able to be with and admire Harry without really seeing him as a romantic icon. That didn't make him any less impressive but it did mean I could step back from my romantic yearnings and actually take note of the real person. But again, that's getting a little ahead of myself. Sorry, sorry, sorry about that, I do have a tendency to ramble all over the place. So anyway, we all got together as a group to hang out: me, Michael and some of his friends, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein. Since I had grown up with so many brothers I was always more comfortable in groups like this one, composed of boys rather than girls. The only girl I was _really_ friendly with was Hermione and she was a little like me, preferring boys to girls so we kind of naturally gravitated together.

Anyway, it was Hermione who approached us one day as we hung out in the courtyard at school break time. One thing that was really annoying about the Hogwarts House system was that we couldn't get into each others' common rooms even if we were invited. And there was no warm mutual place you could go to mingle with friends from outside your own house. So we were stuck on some very cold days with either not seeing each other or with having to hang around outside. Today we had chosen to brave the elements rather than be apart. It wasn't too cold, so being wrapped up and sheltered made it all a lark rather than a drag. Of course if we'd known about the Room of Requirement back then I'm sure we would have used it, but as it was we didn't and we still had heaps of fun.

Hermione was looking a little dubious when she came up to us that day.

'Ginny, can I talk to you alone?' she asked urgently, trying to pull me aside.

'Um, can Michael and the guys know?' I asked, looking at Michael fondly.

She looked at us all consideringly.

'Do you trust them? Like really, really trust them?' she asked in a whisper so low I could barely hear her.

'Yes, they're good guys. What's up? Stop being so mysterious'

'OK, well you all know how Umbridge is a dreadful teacher?'

We all nodded; by now no-one could doubt that.

'Yeah, and since we believe Harry that V-Voldemort is back …' lots of shudders from the boys at that, and to tell the truth I might have jumped a little bit too, 'I think we need to be taught properly, so we'll be prepared when or if we have to face him or his minions.'

We were all fascinated, hanging on her words right then. Terry broke in with 'So you really believe Potter, then? You Know Who is really back?'

'Yes. And we're having a meeting to think about setting up a group to learn how to fight back. Are you guys interested?'

'I'm in' I said and Michael agreed right away with Terry and Anthony nodding enthusiastically beside us.

'Sure, I'll check it out, see what it's about anyway' said Anthony. 'We'll be there. Ginny, you'll get the time and date back to us yeah?'

I agreed and Hermione gave us a happy grin and walked off.

From then until the next Hogsmade weekend, which they quickly decided on as the best time to do it, we were all fired up, and it was all we ever talked about between ourselves. The boys were finally brave enough to ask me about Harry and all the stories that had been circulating this year. I refused to tell them much, deciding it was disrespectful to Harry to tell them his story without them being here. I reminded them what Dumbledore had said at the end of last year, and that it was the truth, that Harry wasn't a liar and anything else they'd have to ask him. So it was that they were really keen to get to the Hogs Head and talk to Harry themselves.

The look on his face when we all got there was almost comical if it hadn't been Harry, and I hadn't been worried about how his temper might deal with all this attention. He looked so shocked to see so many people there to learn from him. I wondered what Hermione had said to even get him to agree to this because it really didn't seem to be the sort of thing he would have done himself. Not to mention that he didn't seem to be all that comfortable with parading himself in front of this huge crowd; yes I was pretty sure this wasn't Harry's idea at all. He began glowering at Hermione and she took that as her cue to begin proceedings.

It was very clear as she stood up that she was very nervous, but she soon settled in to what she was saying. Anthony actually helped her out a little by cheering as she spoke; he was a really nice guy and I could see why he'd been made the Ravenclaw prefect. He had a way of making others around him feel at ease. Either because of Anthony's help or because she was so involved in this new cause, by the time she'd finished her second sentence Hermione was in full on passionate mode, explaining why we needed to learn this stuff to stick it to Umbridge etc. Michael, who I'm sure was trying to wind Hermione up, said 'You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet'. He had a wicked sense of humour and this was exactly the kind of prank he would think was hilarious: trying to wrong foot Hermione into admitting this was just a homework group. But Hermione's response shook the room.

'Lord Voldemort is back.'

Everyone reacted except Harry and Ron who both just stared at Hermione. Of course Zacharias Smith, a stupid wart of a gitty Hufflepuff in Harry, Ron and Hermione's year, couldn't leave things well enough alone. He started in on Harry of course. Saying Dumbledore only said Voldemort was back because of Harry and wanted to know what Harry had seen the day Voldemort returned. Everyone got all hushed and interested and my heart sank. I'd seen just how devastated Harry had been at the end of last year, and I felt like he shouldn't have to relive that just for the excitement and interest of some entertainment-starved young kids. But of course he dealt with it amazingly.

'What makes me say You Know Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.'

I could feel his resolve and the backbone it took to face down Smith like that and for one teeny moment I felt an upsurge of traitorous adoration which I quickly squashed. I didn't need to go back there again. I quickly turned to Michael to remind myself what I did have that was actually mine, and he grinned at me in mutual admiration. The moment passed and I was able to pay attention once again without that old fangirl feeling rising up again. Harry was still being pushed by that git Smith but he was holding his own, and eventually Hermione tried to cut in. There was the inevitable outcry about why exactly we should learn from Harry. Like what made him more special than anyone else. But then, thanks to Susan Bones (did I say I really like the Hufflepuffs? Well, except for horrid little Smith) we began enumerating all the things that Harry has achieved in Defence since he started school. Put all together like that it was a massively impressive list and soon enough everyone had fallen in line, including Harry who had been trying to downplay his achievements a little. After that it was all pretty well just gathering what information we needed to be sure we could all be in the same place at the same time.

There were of course 3 houses' worth of quidditch practices to work around plus various other commitments and the way they all got shunted around it meant that our meetings were never predictable in the week. It all worked out quite well actually as I'm sure Umbridge was keeping a close eye on Harry. She was obsessed with him, with making sure he was as downtrodden and discredited as he could be. In hindsight I think she was petrified that he would be believed and she just didn't want to admit that Voldemort could be back, but at he time we all thought she was a power hungry, insane witch. Of course she did turn out to be power hungry as well, but I'm sure the fear of Harry is what caused most of the negative attention towards him and by extension his fellow Gryffindors. Either way, I thought it was probably a very good thing that we couldn't be predicted with any degree of certainty.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 27: The High Inquisitor Speaks

As bad as we had thought Umbridge was before, and as good as it felt to be doing something so daring under her nose, the news we got the next Monday after the Hogsmeade weekend was enough to bring us crashing down and show that Umbridge really _hadn't_ been bad before. Now she began to show her true colours. Her new Educational Decree was enough to make my blood freeze. She was banning all groups and meetings? That must mean she knew about us, about our defence group, as it was still being called back then.

The kerfuffle among the newly recruited members was crazy that morning. Those from other Houses kept trying to come to our table to talk about it. Harry, Hermione and I were really irritated by that. I mean if there was anything guaranteed to make us look suspicious to the High Inquisitor it would be surreptitious, furious conversations between several members of the different Houses. Hermione shushed down some Hufflepuffs and when I saw Michael looking purposefully towards out table with his mates I knew it was time for action.

'I'll tell Michael; the fool, honestly …' and I hurried off over to his table. Obviously that wouldn't cause any perturbation as it was now common knowledge that we were together. Ron had found out after the recruiting session in Hogsmeade and had been muttering about it all over the school all weekend so I saw no reason to hide it anymore. While Ron's older brother act was a pain in the neck, it did mean that Michael and I could spend time together more openly and we were taking every opportunity we could get; so my heading over to his table for a whispered conversation raised a few sniggers but no suspicion. I grinned to myself, grateful for the excuse. I chatted to him for a few minutes, enjoying being able to do so openly, then headed back to our table.

When I got there the faces of all 4 boys (Harry, Ron, Fred and George) were so thunderous that I knew something must have happened. It seemed that Umbridge had included quidditch teams in her decree, and so Gryffindor had to apply to be allowed to play again. Slytherin of course was allowed to regroup right away, cementing my idea that Umbridge had it in for Gryffindor in particular. I was right peeved too but there was nothing they could do about it except wait it out and hope to be allowed to play. I had a fleeting thought that Harry might just need to keep his temper a little better since he had a glorious habit of telling Umbridge exactly what was on his mind. It was very endearing to the rest of us because we loved to see (or hear about) her getting taken down but it didn't do _him_ any favours and he often ended up in detention with her because of that temper. I had an ominous feeling it was going to get him in real trouble one day soon but I didn't do anything about it because, well … because I had other things on my hormonal little mind.

Harry quickly found a great place for us to practise. Dobby the house elf, who I didn't tell you about from my first year where he had in his own incompetent way tried to protect Harry by trying to get him expelled from Hogwarts, had told him about the come and go room, also known as the Room of Requirement. It was brilliant, having everything we needed to practice with. Harry was strangely magnificent as he was elected leader (Hermione in her little mother hen way had insisted we vote on him being in charge to 'make it formal, give him authority' so we all dutifully voted) and Hermione steered us towards choosing a name. I don't _think_ it was because it was Cho who suggested a name (The Defense Association, DA for short) that I made an alternate suggestion, but I suggested that we be called the DA as she suggested but have it stand for Dumbledore's Army since that was what old toad face was most scared of. She thought we would fight for Dumbledore if we were allowed any freedom at all, and that Dumbledore was trying to take over from the ministry. That was all ridiculous but gave us a really powerful name to conjure with, and feel smug about while listening to her boring classes, and so we all agreed to it.

Soon after that Harry had us all practising the Expelliarmus spell he had learnt so quickly back in my first year. That wart Smith (who had invited him anyway?) whined about it of course.

'I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going ton help us against You-Know-Who, do you?'

Once again Harry's response, quiet and matter of fact as it was, electrified the room and once again I had one of those traitorous up-swellings of adoration that needed squashing. Just what he said conveyed so much of what he had been through and yet he was so calm about it.

'I've used it against him. It saved my life in June.'

Of course after that bombshell we all quickly fell in line with his idea. If Expelliarmus could help him against You Know Who it was surely good enough for use against Umbridge and the Ministry if necessary, not to mention the Death Eaters who were almost certainly out there biding their time to attack. By the end of that lesson we were all reasonably proficient and were all eager to have another go next lesson. I managed to ignore the chummy way Harry was being with Cho by focussing all my efforts on disarming Michael and ignoring as much as possible what was going on with Harry. I succeeded pretty well and by the end of it I was disarming Michael every try. I don't think he was trying his hardest with me because he hardly ever managed to disarm me, and being treated like I was porcelain was starting to get on my goat a little. I'm actually sure Harry noticed because he gave me a sympathetic grimace; he knew I didn't like being seen as fragile and I knew if he'd been disarming me, like that day back on the train home in first year, he wouldn't have pulled his punches. Still, I forgave Michael because he was really good about most things. Heading back to our dorms I felt like we were all fighting back finally, and I felt warm and happy knowing we were resisting right under Umbridge's nose.

That feeling persisted as we made our way down to the quidditch pitch to see the next game. Umbridge had reluctantly allowed the Gryffindor team to reform after Dumbledore talked to her and used his power as headmaster to make her give in, but it was clear she wasn't pleased. I was a little concerned about it, to be honest, because an Umbridge thwarted was an Umbridge who was very unpleasant. She was very nasty that way, but I wasn't overly concerned as Michael and I headed to the game that day. It was a fantastic one. Harry was as focussed as ever and he was far better than usual because he was playing opposite Malfoy. There was something about being pitted against each other that made him even more determined to win at any cost. The only real problem at that game was Ron. The Slytherins had been happily tormenting him about his prowess all week and gleefully getting worse when they saw how much it affected him. And all through the game they were singing a dreadful song about how he was the best asset for the Slytherin team and he was letting in goals in a terribly depressing fashion. Harry was as determined to catch the snitch for the sake of getting Ron out of there, I think, as to show up Malfoy who was the ring leader of the Slytherin nastiness of course. And it worked. Harry's determination got us through and he caught the snitch and we won the game of course.

Unfortunately that's when things went wrong. Ron took off for the changing rooms right away, I guess because he felt like he was useless. Stupid git used to go off alone when he felt crap about stuff all the time. I left him to it, as he usually sorted himself out faster if he was left to himself. And anyway there was something really strange going on on the pitch. It seemed like Harry, Fred, George and Malfoy were all exchanging heated words. I felt a stab of worry. It looked like Harry's temper was about to get him in real trouble finally. He looked murderous as he held George back from attacking Malfoy, and I was sure that any second now he would crack and do something he'd regret. Don't do it I willed at him, don't do it … but suddenly he let go of George and the two of them were pounding on Malfoy as much as they could. Given the looks on their 2 faces, I wouldn't want to be in Malfoy's shoes for anything right then. Is it really bad to say that while I knew this was really, really bad I was kind of thrilled by their actions? It gave me heaps of joy to see that pale, smug little face covered in terror and trying to defend itself as best it could. I don't like muggle fighting in general, but as it was Malfoy (and a treacherous part of me admitted: as it was Harry too) I was almost excited by it even though I had a bad feeling about where this would lead.

That bad feeling was confirmed later that day when Harry, Fred and George returned to the common room with their news. Umbridge, in accordance with some new educational decree or other (I was really growing to hate those things), had confiscated the brooms of all 3 and banned them from quidditch for life. They were all devastated, but especially Harry. His face reflected all the guilt I knew he was feeling deep inside and I just wanted to make him feel better. Hermione pulled him down to sit between us and the team was all gathered around. Everyone else was abusing Umbridge but Harry just sat there between the two of us looking small and defeated. I knew that this year he was going through a lot. So many people were against him and thought he was an attention seeking liar, and quidditch was his refuge from that. Now that had been ripped away from him. Soon people began drifting off and away to bed, many in denial that this had happened at all. Angelina, the captain, was beside herself over the whole thing. I stayed for as long as I could bear to see Harry so defeated looking. I hadn't seen him this lost-looking since the end of last year and I couldn't stand it any more. I patted his shoulder carefully and said goodnight as I left. He tried to smile at me but it didn't reach his eyes. Seeing the hurt in the green depths I determined to do what I could to make this better for him. And the first thing we would do was to work extra hard at the DA to make Umbridge rue the day she had crossed us.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 28, Cho Chang!

For the next little while we had as many DA meetings as we could. Harry needed to be doing something, I think, to stick it to Umbridge for making him lose quidditch. Or rather for over-reacting so badly when he took on Muggle fighting as a hobby. We all learned heaps and everyone was progressing really well, even Neville who plodded away at it with dogged determination and endless patience. This friend of Cho's didn't seem all that happy to be there, though, and I often wondered why she bothered to come if she wasn't enjoying it. It kind of bugged me, too, because I'm pretty sure she only came so Cho could have a girl friend with her. Seriously, if you need someone to hold your hand to do something why bother? After all, Cho was able to find the quidditch pitch by herself so why the heck couldn't she find the DA meetings? Harry's just given me another one of his smirks, and I will say that at the time I was probably miffed at her more because of Harry's interest in her than through any fault of hers. I know I was being silly, I had Michael so why couldn't Harry have someone else, but I just wasn't completely rational over him. I think I also had a nagging suspicion that she only liked him because he had been with Cedric when he died, and she wanted that connection to him. I just worried about Harry; someone as needy as Cho didn't seem to me to be the right person for him. Not this year, not when he was under so much pressure himself.

Soon Angelina Johnson called for trials to replace Fred, George and Harry at quidditch and I tried out for Harry's position. I was worried how he would take it, to be honest, and felt almost disloyal to be trying out in his place but someone needed to be seeker and I had always wanted to be on the team. I knew beater wasn't a good fit for me but since chaser was out as an option, seeker was a decent second best for me. So I tried out and managed to get the place. Thankfully Harry wasn't too upset by it, though I think that may have had more to do with him actually getting around to snogging Cho Chang than it did with him being completely happy to have me replace him. See, we were chosen for the team in December and that same night we had the last DA meeting before the holidays. We all just practised spells we'd already been through and in the end we all left feeling really good about our abilities. As I left with Michael I noticed something that twisted my heart a little bit. Cho was hanging back and I figured she was trying to get Harry alone.

And afterwards in the common room, I heard something that stabbed at my chest badly. I know I've said time and again that I was over Harry and that I was really happy with Michael, and when I got together with Michael I really did believe that. But the truth is that hearing about Harry snogging Cho that day was a lot more painful than I had expected it to be. I had been right. Cho had cornered Harry after the meeting in the Room of Requirement, and they had ended up kissing. It was one of those mushroom-like rumours that sprang up immediately after something like that happens. Everyone seemed to know about it within hours and the reactions were a mixture of sniggering and amazement. I quickly got over being jealous about it, though, because I was soon too busy defending Harry to my dorm mates. They were convinced that Cho was far too good for him and that they couldn't understand what she saw in him. In vain did I explain his good points and the fact that he truly wasn't lying, but over and over again the same ideas came back to me. He was an attention seeking git, Cho was lovely and he didn't deserve her. I sighed and kept my ideas to myself once again. But from then on I was desperate for their relationship to work out. I wanted it proven to the nay sayers that he was a great guy who deserved any girl he wanted. I was wise enough when talking about it to others, however, not to add that I didn't think Cho deserved him. I knew that given my past history with him it would be seen as jealous pettiness and my thoughts would be dismissed. Of course I was dismissed anyway, but I kept hoping that my reasoned arguments would actually see fruit … one day. And if nothing else no-one would be unclear on where I stood with regards to the return of Voldemort.

Even if my room mates hadn't got me away from my pain at hearing of Harry kissing Cho, what happened later that night would have pulled me out of any lingering funk immediately. I was deep in a dreamless sleep, having got huffily into bed after being unable to change the minds of my fellow fourth years. Suddenly a gentle hand was shaking me out of my sleep. I came awake with a start and stared at McGonagall sleepily. She looked pale and distressed and my heart began to thump uneasily.

'What's the matter? What happened?'

I could hear my voice rising in pitch but was powerless to stop it. McGonagall shook her head at me and whispered softly 'You need to get up quietly and come with me. Just put on your dressing gown and meet me in the common room.'

With that she whisked quickly out of sight and I pulled on my gown with shaking hands. There was no way that she would wake me up for nothing. Something bad had happened to someone. I hastened down the stairs to the common room with my heart in my mouth, trying not to think about what might have happened and to who. I got there just as McGonagall was ushering Fred and George in to the room. My heart beat even faster. Why wasn't Ron there? George seemed to be thinking the same way.

'What's up? Where's Ron? What's happened to him…'

'Your brother is fine; he's in Dumbledore's office with Mr Potter.'

Harry? Harry was involved somehow? I was getting really confused. All the signs were pointing to something being wrong in our family, so what was Harry doing being part of it? I think McGonagall understood something of our confusion because she went on.

'Mr Potter has seen some sort of vision concerning your father.'

'Dad? What's wrong with Dad?' Fred grated out.

'We can't be sure, but it looks like he's been hurt in an attack. I think we'd best go up to Dumbledore's office. He has better information and will answer your question much better than I can.'

We all nodded, and were practically out the portrait hole by the time she finished speaking.

When we got to Dumbledore's office and I saw Harry's face I felt even colder than I had since McGonagall woke me up. He looked so pale and terrified that I knew whatever this 'vision' was, it wasn't a lie or an exaggeration. He had seen something happen to Dad.

'Harry – what's going on? Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad get hurt –'

Dumbledore answered me rather than Harry and I was too caught up in the horror of what had been done to Dad to worry about Harry too much. But as we caught the portkey that Dumbledore hastily created for us to get to Grimauld Place, I saw a look of pure hatred cross Harry's face as he caught Dumbledore's eye. I have to tell you that is one of the scariest things I've ever seen. The look in Harry's eye was so murderous that I don't ever want to see it again. I've seen him determined, angry, frustrated, disgusted, but I have never before or since seen just that look of utter contempt and loathing. It lasted less than a second but it made me shiver nevertheless. The only redeeming feature of that moment was the look of utter confusion that chased it onto his face. It was clear this was not something he really felt about our headmaster, but why then had he looked so full of hate?

Sirius was waiting for us when we got to Grimauld Place, which was closer to the hospital than our place was. We were all in shock and all anyone wanted was to hear from Harry what had happened. He was strangely reluctant to say anything and when he did tell us it was hesitantly and with a lot of clear guilt. Through my worry about Dad, I was a little sorry for Harry, but selfishly it was only a little. This was clearly very hard for him; he always had that guilt complex anyway and here he was assuming he had somehow caused this terrible thing. Any fool could see that he had nothing to do with it, but he had taken the whole burden on himself once again. But I felt a tiny upwelling of almost annoyance over it. Here was our dad seriously in danger in hospital and Harry was making it all about him. I squelched it quickly. To be fair Fred, George, all of us really, had forced him to talk about it, so it wasn't really his fault he was feeling guilty. Ron, Fred and George were all staring at Harry almost accusingly after hearing what he had to say so it's no wonder he felt the guilt if they were projecting those feelings onto him.

To deflect attention I asked Sirius for a cloak to cover us so we could get to St Mungo's. To my horror he refused to let us go. Seemed he thought we should sit tight and pretend we didn't know anything to protect Harry's vision ability thing from being found out. The boys all looked angry and were gearing up for a protest, but that was the one thing Sirius could have said to convince me to sit down and wait. I still had enough residual Harry feelings, and was able to empathise with his needs in this situation enough, to want to make sure he was protected from the Ministry as much as possible.

So we sat and waited for what seemed like hour after horrible hour. The only break in things was the terrifying letter from Mum. The one that left us even more in dread than before, the one that said Dad was 'still alive' as if he could maybe … not be alive sometime soon. I didn't want to think about it, but sitting in that kitchen for hour after hour staring at slowly warming bottles of butterbeer I could think of nothing else. I curled into myself on my chair staring at the fire and just wallowing in the thoughts of Dad fighting for his life. I was dimly aware out of the corner of my eye the many times Harry looked over at me, but instead of thrilling to it as I would have just a year or so ago I was just thankful he cared enough to feel our pain with us and revelled ever deeper in my own worry over Dad.

Finally at some terribly early hour in the morning Mum came in, and told us all he was going to pull through. I sighed in relief and seeing how pale and distraught Mum looked I went over and hugged her tight. She trembled a little and hugged me back. I saw Harry go try to help Sirius make breakfast to avoid her, but Mum being Mum she forced him into a hug and thanked him with tears in her eyes for saving Dad. I saw the look of anguish that crossed Harry's face at the time, and I determined to try and help him see that this wasn't his fault. We were all going to go visit dad at the hospital, but I decided that after that I was going to have a good chat with Harry. It was time to get past my fear that he'd see me as the fawning fan girl and just do what I could to help salve a fellow human in need. Now that Dad was fine, I was able to properly empathise with Harry again and I already felt shame over my annoyance at his guilt thing.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 29: Lucky You!

After we all got through hugging Mum and having little fits of happy tears we went up for a sleep. All of us were exhausted so we all slept really well, though I did wonder about Harry when I saw how pale he still was when we all got up later. I didn't think anything of it though, I was just so desperate to get to St Mungo's and see Dad. Everyone was in a pretty good mood all the way there; Dad was going to be fine and we all were free from school and the oppression of Umbridge. It was only now that we were away from her for a little while that I realised just how claustrophobic she had made that castle. Up til now we had been just accepting the way it was under Umbridge but suddenly being free from the place and feeling a sense of lightness and relief I felt really sad, remembering how joyful it used to be at Hogwarts and how terrible the stifling and oppression were there now. I hoped that the DA would help us make a difference in the end. If Umbridge kept poisoning the place like this after we got back, sucking the joy out of it, I thought I might just scream in frustration; the freedom of this one small walk had opened me to why the DA's efforts were truly important.

Dad was as perky as ever when we got to the hospital. I swear it would take something huge to get him down. He was madly happy about his wounds being difficult. I almost feel like he was pleased to be a difficult customer so he could see first hand all the ways they tinkered about trying to fix him up. He loved working on Muggle stuff so I think he enjoyed seeing someone 'working on' him, even if it was a magical 'work' and not a Muggle one.

One of Dad's biggest problems is (and I've said this before) is that he has trouble keeping his mouth shut around people who don't need to know things. And my twin brothers were very adept at weaselling information out of him. So as soon as he began to accidentally reveal more of what had happened to him than I think Mum wanted us to know and the twins began asking awkward questions we were all shunted out of the room because the grown ups wanted to talk. I hate that whole 'you wouldn't understand so let the grownups deal with it' crap that people come up with a bit too often. Fortunately Fred and George, being Fred and George, had a stash of extendable ears about their persons (you've gotta love brothers who are always prepared for mischief-making and pranking) and there were no imperturbable charms on the doors in the hospital to get in the way.

We didn't expect to hear anything all that exciting. I mean after all it was a hospital of all places, but we hadn't been listening for long before Mad-eye dropped the bombshell.

'Obviously, Potter doesn't realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him –'

We all turned as one and stared at Harry. The look on his face was heartbreaking. He looked panicked, lost, alone … and then he closed down completely. Just then Mum called us all back into the room to say our goodbyes to Dad and we headed home. I was determined more than ever to have that chat with him. After all, if anyone could empathise with what he had to be feeling right now it was me. Unfortunately he began avoiding us all and hiding out in the deepest recesses of the house as soon as we got back there. Mum, the idiot, sent him up to bed and so I lost my immediate chance to say anything to him and by the time it was Ok for him to be awake and up again he had enough time to completely cut himself off from all of us and bottle himself away. I know it's not nice to call your mum an idiot, but really! Sleep was exactly what Harry didn't need right then.

I was determined to see him, but it wasn't until Hermione arrived late the next day that I was able to hunt him out of his hidey hole (that house was just too damn big for its own good; search though I might it wasn't til right on Hermione's arrival that I managed to figure out where he'd got himself shut off to). Hermione went up and made him come down to the bedroom where Ron and I were waiting. Now, just so you're all clear on this: if I'd had a choice this was not the way I'd have conducted this little talk, but as it was what I had I ran with it. Harry was, of course, in a right funk. I _knew_ leaving him alone to brood was not the right way to go about this. I sighed in frustration over Mum's methods and then Hermione and I began our tag teaming. One of the best things about Hermione was that we played really well off each other. She started in with how he was being all moody and hiding since we'd got back from the hospital. He of course got in a furious mood and started glaring at me and Ron. To tell the truth I was really pleased to see it; it beat the hell out of the defeated moody, broody look he'd had on when he got into the room. But I still wasn't putting up with that.

'Well you have!' I ground out at him, 'and you won't look at any of us!' That was one of those things that bugged me most about this, I think. I was so used to seeing him and understanding him that to be in a situation where he wouldn't look at me and wouldn't allow his emotions to show even to someone attuned to the very subtle nuances of his face … it was disorienting after so many years of knowing how he was thinking.

'It's you lot who won't look at me!' he exploded out angrily. Hermione made a joke which didn't go down well at all. He was getting angrier by the minute and unfortunately I was beginning to lose my temper a little too. I'm still not proud of that, but he was being so damn obtuse. I was really annoyed and a little hurt that he hadn't remembered the one thing that should make this easier for him. That _I_ had been possessed by Voldemort myself, so I think that was feeding my anger a little too. So after a bit more angry to and fro I finally bit out 'Well, that was a bit stupid of you, as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.'

He stopped dead where he was and as I was seeing his face from the side I could see his mouth gape open. He truly had forgotten, the prat. He spun slowly and looked at me, contrition written all over his face.

'I forgot.'

'Lucky you' I said in a cool voice. His contrition may have dampened my anger a little, but it didn't take away the hurt that he had managed to forget what had happened down in that Chamber. I knew of course that he had done numerous other dangerous things since then, but I had thought he'd felt that bond between us that came out of that time, too. Now it seemed it may have been just a one way street. I wasn't _quite_ ready to forgive him, but the look on his face made me take pity on him and when he asked in a much calmer tone whether I thought he was being possessed, I took him through how and what that entailed. As we spoke I saw his face become lighter as the terrible worry was pulled from him. It made me feel warm and happy that I was able to do that for him. His face had been so set into lines of pain and worry for most of that year that seeing it lighter, relieved of this one huge worry, made him look very young again. He looked as he should: a 15 year old boy.

The rest of that Christmas was really happy. Even though Dad was still in hospital he was doing really well and we were able to go and see him on Christmas Day. He was cheerful as ever, and hopeful of getting out really soon. Of course, being Dad, he'd got into a discussion on Muggles with his healers (and I assume everyone else in the general vicinity; Dad really does adore them and will badger anyone who will listen about his favourite Muggle things) and he found out that one of his healers likes to play around with airy fairy mumbo jumbo and was trialling some Muggle remedies to see if they'd have any effect. I took a quick look around at everyone while he was telling Mum about it, and we all, almost unanimously, made a hasty retreat. I knew that look in Mum's eye and wanted to be anywhere other than there when her anger dropped onto Dad.

We got to a level we thought might have the tea rooms, but instead it was a permanent damage ward, and there standing silhouetted in the doorway was someone guaranteed to conjure nightmares for me. Gilderoy Lockhart. The sight of him sent memories flooding back into my head of the time after Harry had rescued me from the Chamber of Secrets. Memories I thought I'd dealt with, but obviously hadn't. Lockhart had been there and for some reason the sudden view of him was enough to trigger the terrible flashbacks. Harry seemed to notice because he looked at me and whispered cheerfully 'Hasn't changed much, has he?' That was enough to drag me back to myself and I grinned at him. Yeah, with one simple sentence from Harry Lockhart became the object of ridicule he probably deserved to be once more. I raged at myself inwardly that it was Harry who could draw those feelings out of me, but there it was. Out of everyone I knew, he had the ability to put me at ease faster than anyone else, and I seemed to have the same effect on him. That connection we had generated in the Chamber did have its uses, but it could be darned inconvenient at times. Right now I'd prefer to be sighing over a new letter from my boyfriend, not getting a small thrill over Harry being able to draw me back to myself.

We were dragged into Lockhart's room by his nurse and forced to sit with him for a bit, and it was there that we saw just about the saddest thing we've ever experienced. Neville was there with his parents, who had also, it turned out, sustained permanent damage because of the cruciatus curse. You know the memory of Neville's mother's blank face as she gave him bubble gum wrappers stuck with me for years, as did the look on his face as he kept it and seemed to treasure it up. My heart went out to Neville, who lived his entire life with the knowledge that his parents were reduced to this, and that he was left to live with that horrid woman who seemed to be trying to resurrect her son in Neville and didn't appreciate the wonderful person he already was. Years later she grew proud of him because he fought with Harry, but it still grieved me that she couldn't love and be proud of him when he needed it most: when he didn't have his own sense of self worth, and a loving word from her would have done wonders. Neville's parents' torture destroyed many things, not least their son's ability to be appreciated by his relatives for himself. It wasn't many years after this that I was subject to the curse myself and the memory of what it could do made it all the more terrifying as it happened. I fought it as hard as I could because I had no desire to leave anyone behind looking after the shallow husk of who I once was in the way that Neville and his grandmother had to live with the memory of their loved ones.

That meeting with Lockhart and Neville sure did leave a damper on the Christmas spirit, but in a way it was good. It really made me appreciate all I had in my life: my family, whole and healthy even if one of them could go up for the prize git of the year award. My friends, supportive and loving, even my memories of a dark time because they showed me that I had moved on and become stronger.


	31. Chapter 31

_I hope everyone had a great Holiday season and a wonderful time with family and friends. Here is a late present from me to you all. I'm hopefully back into a normal routine now and will hopefully be updating as usual from now on._

Chapter 30: Sirius

Over the next few months things at the castle settled into a new kind of routine. Harry wandered around the place making gooey eyes at Cho and generally acting like a lovesick idiot. OK OK, it wasn't that bad, but I was still a little put off by seeing him with some other girl, even though I was with another guy. I wasn't very rational at all still, but I didn't dwell on it, promise. I wasn't that cruel to my boyfriend, and I wasn't even all _that_ interested in Harry and Cho. I just … noticed them around, an awful lot. As well as that little development, Umbridge was getting even worse. I know, hard to imagine isn't it? But she was in every single class with Hagrid or Trelawney and she was so obnoxious about it. So many times I wanted to just tell her where to stick her stupid smug toad face, but I had at least a little impulse control and kept my mouth shut. It didn't stop the mutinous glares behind her back though, or the huge efforts I put forth in the DA.

Speaking of the DA, during this time there was a massive breakout from Azkaban of 10 of the worst of Voldemort's supporters, and so we all steeled up our backs and redoubled our efforts. But in no-one was that change more apparent than in Neville. He took on a determined face and focussed so deeply on learning the spells that he almost caught up with Hermione in picking up new spells. He was an inspiration, and was showing that resolve that he'd always had but been too shy to share with many people. I was pleased he was finally showing the real him to other people even if it was caused by a bad event.

Luna, who I haven't really mentioned yet, was also an inspiration in her own way. She was always sunny tempered and never let anyone's perceptions of her stop her from plugging on and getting the job done. She still seemed odd to most people but I think some of them at least were appreciating her calm ways. We rekindled our strange friendship during this time and she was always a wonderfully serene presence in all the craziness surrounding me. I still didn't see much of her, dividing my time as I did between Gryffindor Tower and Michael and his mates, but whenever we were together she always left me feeling rejuvenated and more at peace with the world around me. It was a special gift Luna had.

Quidditch was not going well at all, either. I was fine, though after all the practising I knew seeker wasn't the position for me at all, deciding that next time I tried out it would be as chaser. But Ron was a mess. He had no confidence in his abilities and he was bringing the rest of the team down with him. Nothing Angelina said would make him get over himself, and so we were in despair about our chances for the cup this year. Harry always looked like he'd swallowed a lemon whenever anyone complained about it, too. It was obvious he was sour that those who could still play were not completely enthused about it. I know he was hurting about being off the team, but honestly! He wasn't at the practices, he wasn't aware of how bad they actually were with Ron being the downer like he was. Angelina was almost always close to tears and I can tell you one thing right now. There is very little as depressing as trying to keep up a cheerful, enthusiastic façade while everyone around you is being a pessimistic sod, and it wasn't long before my mouth hurt from the fake smile I put on. So all in all the year was not progressing particularly happily.

Around Easter, of course, Mum sent the usual box with everyone's eggs in it and it fell to em to deliver them to everyone. The boys (Ron, Fred and George) just started scoffing and wouldn't budge to get the eggs to Hermione and Harry. So I rolled my eyes, picked up the box, scattering their eggs in my wake and headed off to the library. I assumed I'd find Hermione there. Ever since Umbridge had taken over as head of the school, Hermione had been spending every waking moment in the library when we weren't in DA meetings. Her looming OWL exams may have had something to do with it, but I think Umbridge's regime was really bothering her and she was desperate to find something, anything, to occupy her thoughts away from the devastation being wrought in the school.

However, by the time I'd made it to the library I didn't find the person I was looking for. Hermione was nowhere to be seen, but the other person I had an egg delivery for was there, looking depressed and moody. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that it took me a few minutes to get his attention.

'Harry, I'm talking to you, can you hear me?'

I all but waved my hand in front of his face to get his attention.

'Huh?'

Yeah; eloquent as ever, he was. I slumped down at the table where he sat alone.

'Oh hi' he said listlessly. 'How come you're not at practice?'

To his credit he kept the bitterness in his voice to an absolute minimum. I sighed heavily, remembering how bad it had been and why I had ben eager to deliver the eggs to get my mind off it.

'It's over. Ron had to take Jack Sloper up to the hospital wing.'

'Why?'

I shrugged. 'Well, we're not sure, but we _think_ he knocked himself out with his own bat. Anyway …' I finally remembered why I was actually looking for him; talking quidditch did tend to have the effect of making me forget what I'm meant to be doing. 'A package just arrived, it's only just got through Umbridge's new screening process. It's Easter eggs from Mum' I added as he looked confused by the box I dumped onto the table. 'There's one for you … there you go.'

As I handed it to him his face crumpled and he looked almost like he was about to cry. For once I wasn't flippant with him; I could tell this was not the right time to try to lighten him up with a joke.

'Are you OK Harry?' I asked instead.

He was still staring at that egg with that heartbreaking expression on his face.

'Yeah I'm fine' he said with a strangely husky tone to his voice. Merlin, he really _was_ close to crying. I took a stab at what I thought might be the problem even though it twisted at my heart to do it. She was _so_ not worthy of him.

'You seem really down lately. You know, I'm sure if you just _talked_ to Cho …'

To my surprise his face just crumpled even more, and he looked like he was in genuine pain.

'It's not Cho I want to talk to' he said, still with that strange husky tone to his voice.

'Who is it then?' I persisted, wanting to get to the bottom of this thing. A depressed Harry was just so unnatural that it made everything else seem that much worse.

'I … I wish I could talk to Sirius.' Sirius? OK, that was unexpected. I wondered, briefly, why wanting to talk to Sirius would make him look so sad as he continued firmly 'but I know I can't.'

I thought about it carefully and said slowly 'Well, if you really want to talk to Sirius, I expect we could think of a way to do it.'

'Come on. With Umbridge policing the fires and reading all our mail?'

_Good grief Harry_! I wanted to shout at him. _This isn't you! Where's the fire, the passion we know and love about you?_ But I knew. This year had been so tough on him that it had finally worn him down. So I just said gently 'the thing about growing up with Fred and George is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.'

I was just warming to the look of hope that was blooming in hies eyes as he stared at me and ate some of his egg when Madame Pince intervened, the stupid old bat. She chased us from the library because of the egg eating, but that wasn't the end of it for me. I resolved to talk to Fred and George as soon as I could. I needed to get that defeated look off my former hero's face. And yes, before any of you says anything again, I did see him as a 'former' hero by now. I had yet to _really_ fall in love with the real person but I'd seen enough of his flaws to not be so overawed by his 'heroism.' And by now I did know him well enough to know that this shut down, internalised shell of a person wasn't who he really was, and I wanted to help him find his way back to himself.

I found Fred and George easily enough and it wasn't exactly hard to convince them to pull off the prank to end all pranks against Umbridge. Between us we thought out the perfect plan. Fred and George would create one of their magnificent diversions and that would allow Harry to get into Umbridge's office and use the only floo connection that remained unwatched. I hoped he would pull himself together after talking to Sirius; this was a damn dangerous thing we were organising and if he didn't appreciate it I'd hunt him down personally and give him a piece of my mind. Fred and George's faces were alight with the fun of the plotting and their evil grins were infectious.

Next day I saw that their plan had worked perfectly. Well, to a point it had. They had clearly detonated one of their stock of magic diversions, but Umbridge had them cornered in the Entrance Hall and was attempting to impose her will on them. My brothers being who they were, though, were unabashed and even seemed to be enjoying themselves. The news of the swamp they had set off in the corridors was sweeping through the students surrounding the walls. For some reason I have yet to fathom, Umbridge seemed to prefer to conduct these 'punishments' amidst a huge group of students. I think she wanted to impress upon us the futility of opposing her, but since she was thwarted in some way every time all she did was ensure maximum exposure for her weakness as a leader. Whatever the reason, I was delighted to see Harry duck into view on the stairs behind her with that wicked gleam back in his eye. It seemed that either talking to Sirius, if he'd managed it, or the sheer joy in seeing Umbridge thwarted again by my brothers had made him lose that defeated look again. _Good_, I said to myself. _Good, now we need to ensure he stays this way._

Fred and George flew out of school on their reclaimed brooms to massive applause and universal approval. Well, universal if you didn't count Umbridge and Filch who both looked dejected and annoyed. Umbridge redoubled her efforts to be as controlling as possible but all she managed to do was remind everyone how Fred and George had triumphed over her. There was a new sense of purpose and student solidarity in the school in the wake of their departure and I was pleased to see it, and it even seemed to keep Harry pulled away from himself. Pranking efforts rose what seemed to be 500% in the weeks after they left, and skiving snackboxes seemed to do a roaring trade.

The only thing looming on the horizon that wasn't so great was quidditch. I know that seems really weird since I was so excited about it when I first got on the team, but we needed to win the upcoming game against Ravenclaw and it was causing serious tension between me and Michael. He hadn't been overjoyed that I had made the team in Harry's place, seeming to prefer me in 'ardent supporter' role. Still, we'd managed OK right up until that game, but since we were going to be playing each other he had gotten really nasty. It came to a head in the euphoria and celebration after we won. On the walk back to the castle I was excitedly talking to him about Ron's performance as keeper and he couldn't take it.

'Could you stop with the bragging and posing about how great bloody Gryffindor is at quidditch! I'm sick of it!'

I stared at him in consternation, pulled away from my happy chatter.

'But … what …?'

'You, you're always going on about quidditch and practice and how you're so bad at the game and your team sucks. But as soon as you beat us it's all 'yay, we're so awesome''

'So I can't enjoy the fact that we overcame some pretty big odds and Ron managed to play really well for once?'

'No! Not when you know it must upset me because it's my team you were playing.'

'For goodness' sake Michael, all I said was that I was really proud of my brother and happy I'd managed to get the snitch. It's not a crime to beat another team at a game.'

'Well you don't need to rub it in. You know what quidditch means to me!'

I was so riled up by this time that I'm afraid I yelled at him a little. He was being so sulky and mopey about it. We hadn't been 'alright' since I began to play but it became very clear to me during this one encounter that quidditch and his team were more important to him than I was. I know it may seem like a petty reason to ditch someone, but the last few weeks I had felt like I had to stifle my true self from him so he wouldn't get all upset because I was a quidditch player now too. And the first time I felt like I could actually talk about it, be happy in my success, he was jealous because I'd beaten his team. It was just the last straw in a relationship that was increasingly obviously not going anywhere.

'Well, if you don't want to hear about my happiness, maybe you don't want anything to do with me' I said coldly after a bit more back and forth shouted insults being traded.

'Yeah, maybe I don't.'

'Fine, I don't think there's any reason to keep seeing each other then. Goodbye Michael.' I turned and walked away from him, feeling actually relieved. It was obvious to me that if I was feeling this relieved about breaking up with him then it was the right thing to do. I felt free and alive and myself again. I went back up to the Gryffindor Common Room to a full-fledged party in progress and was the life and soul. It was one of the happiest days of my life which was odd considering I had just broken up with my first boyfriend. The only twinge of sadness I had was realising I would most likely lose real contact with Michael's friends, and I really liked those guys.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 31: To the Ministry of Magic

It was only a bare handful of days after the quidditch match that the 5th and 7th year students started to get severely strained looks on their faces and walking around with their heads stuck in books. Hermione of course was the worst of them all, she had a perpetually harried look on her face and she would grab any passing person she was even slightly acquainted with and demand that they help her study. I found it all highly amusing, especially the looks on Harry and Ron's faces when she started in on them. They both looked hunted but acquiesced with reasonable grace to help her study.

Once the exams started I began hanging around outside the Great Hall towards the end of the allotted exam time to, you know, offer moral support to my dearest brother. It had nothing to do with wanting to catch a glimpse of Harry at all. I swear! Well, OK. Maybe in the far recesses of my mind I was thinking in terms of getting to know Harry better, but I wasn't consciously aware of that desire yet. I honestly thought I was there out of concern for my brother. Whatever the reason, I found myself outside the Hall when a small man brought Harry out of the History of Magic exam looking the palest I've ever seen him and with a freaked out look in his eye. He looked a more in depth version of the way he did that day back at Grimauld Place when I saw him clutch at his scar. In fact once the small man, who I took to be one of the examiners, had left the Entrance Hall again Harry rushed off up the stairs with one hand rubbing feverishly at the scar again. I frowned. This was not a good sign. The exam wasn't quite over but Harry had refused to return to the room, and he looked so bad that I could tell something was up.

Just then the doors opened and the students flooded out of the exam. Ron and Hermione looked stressed and were arguing forcibly between themselves. I crept closer to hear what they were saying.

'He's had another of those visions, I'm sure of it.,' said Hermione.

'But I thought he was doing occlumency to get past that stuff' said Ron in confusion. 'I say we just go find him and treat him as usual.'

'Well, I'm worried and I think we need to confront him about these visions again. Dumbledore wants him to stop having them, and he's not trying hard enough to block them.'

I didn't understand more than 1 word in 2 of this exchange but it seemed clear that whatever was bothering Harry had been happening before and was likely to carry on happening. I stealthily followed them to see what was up with Harry as I was really worried about the way he looked. He appeared suddenly at the top of the stairs just as the other 2 were catching up to him. He had a little colour back in his face but a really wild look in his eye that didn't bode well. Oh yes, I generally approved of his recklessness and wild nature but there was something beyond reckless in the way he was looking that made me really worry that he had lost all thought and reason. I saw him grab at the other 2 and practically drag them into a nearby classroom. I tried to listen in but he'd put up some sort of barrier spell on the door to prevent outsiders from hearing. I guess he'd spent too much time with my twin brothers to allow himself to be caught out that way I thought in disappointment.

'Hi Ginny. Why are you listening at that door? Are there runelocks in there?'

I sighed in relief. Luna. She could help me out here. One thing I did know about Luna was that she had mastered the muggle door picking tactics that Fred and George had insisted on showing us during one long ago DA practice. Not to mention that she almost always had a hairpin on her somewhere.

'No, not exactly. Luna, do you have a hairpin? I need to get through this door'

'Um, sure. I have one somewhere' she said patting her hair in a thoroughly aimless manner, but seeming to come up with one shortly anyway.

She got straight to work on the lock and it became quickly obvious that whatever charm Harry had used to keep out eavesdroppers, it wasn't good enough to drown out shouting.

'WELL, I EXPECT HE'D SAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT IF HE KNEW WHAT I'D JUST –'

I grinned to myself as we managed to get the door open. With that kind of noise I was certain none of them had heard us picking the lock. The looks on all their faces as they spun around and saw us as the door swung open confirmed it. Harry was soon looking furious again, though, and it was with a little trepidation that I said 'Hi. We recognised Harry's voice. What are you yelling about?' It was true. I did recognise Harry's voice. No need to tell him that that wasn't the reason why I was there in the first place though, right?

'Never you mind' Harry ground out in a really blunt way. I wasn't going to stand for that from a fellow student, though. Hermione looked petrified and Ron looked like he had no idea what to do. Once again I internally rolled my eyes. Hermione had obviously forgotten everything I said about how to deal with an angry temper and Ron had frozen up since it his mate and not his mum doing the shouting. Honestly. Did I have to do everything around here?

'There's no need to take that tone with me,' I said calmly, 'I was only wondering whether I could help.'

'Well you can't' said Harry still rudely. I was about to grind my teeth in frustration and be serene at him again if I could only manage to not lose my own temper with him when Luna broke in.

'You're being rather rude, you know.'

Harry was not taking our interruption very well and began with the yelling and swearing thing again, but thankfully Hermione finally remembered her training and stood up to him a bit. It turned out that Harry wanted to go haring off somewhere to find Sirius who he thought was being tortured somewhere and Hermione, rational as ever, wanted to verify it. I was personally a little more on Harry's side in this one. I mean he had that vision of Dad's attack which turned out to be true and Hermione was often a bit of a drag with her insistence on obeying the rules. Still, what with Harry's wild eyes and unnatural swearing I figured a little reality check would be a good idea. So I readily agreed to guard one end of a corridor against students getting decapitated by 'garrotting gas' (one of Fred and George's more nasty ideas that they had thought of trialling just before they left). It was clear that Harry wasn't keen on the idea, as he was still storming around like a mad man, but sooner than I thought possible I was exasperatedly telling people that if they carried on down the corridor they would be decapitated and Harry and Hermione were slipping away in the direction of Umbridge's office.

I was congratulating myself on a job well done when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder and I heard Neville shouting 'No! Stop! Leave her alone!' and felt him scrabbling at the hand clamped to my shoulder so tightly. I twisted around trying to see who had me but all I could see was the green emblem of Slytherin, then as I tried to shout out a gag was shoved roughly in my mouth and I was flung around and frogmarched towards Umbridge's office. My heart was beating far too fast and I struggled as hard as I could to get away from the foul smelling Slytherin girl who had hold of me, especially when I saw the calculating look on Umbridge's face as she watched my struggles. I was not going to allow that beast of a toad woman to get the better of me. Sadly Harry and Hermione allowed themselves to lose their heads a little, or it looked like they did, and Umbridge was soon escorting them out of her office and off to the Forbidden Forest, of all places, in search of some nonexistent 'weapon' of Dumbledore's.

This did leave us in the charge of a bunch of stupid Slytherins, however. I looked over at Ron and Neville and raised my eyebrows significantly. Neville nodded imperceptibly and Ron closed his eyes in careful preparation. Satisfied that they understood and figuring that Luna, who was behind me and who I couldn't alert because it would cause too much suspicion, would follow where we led, I carefully looked around at the gathered Slytherins. Malfoy looked disgruntled and less sure of himself after being left behind by Umbridge, so it was towards him that I directed my efforts. I slumped in the arms of my captor, making her believe I had finally given up or grown tired. But instead I twisted quickly out of her arms and aimed a stinging bat bogey hex right at Malfoy's head. As I was revelling in the gorgeous sight of the huge black shapes flapping all over his face I forgot to take my former captor into account. She scratched at my face with insanely huge nails before I managed to drop her with another hex and see what was going on with the others. As I took a breath it became obvious that we had them all on the floor in various states of incapacity. We quickly made a loose net by transfiguring one of Umbridge's lace doilies (best use for the ugly things in my opinion) which the Slytherins were sure to get out of easily but not fast enough to prevent our getaway.

We met up with Harry and Hermione on the edges of the Forbidden Forest and it became very quickly obvious that Harry was still not in the mood for help. _Well stuff him_, I thought viciously, _he isn't leaving us behind _this_ time_. _We're members of the DA too, after all_. I was just gathering my thoughts to explain why he needed to let us come too. Then he said the one thing almost guaranteed to make me explode in an icy storm of withering remarks:

'You're too –' _He did not just go there! He did _not_ try to tell me I was too young!_

'I'm three years older than you were when you fought You-Know-Who over the Philosopher's Stone, and it's because of me that Malfoy's stuck back in Umbridge's office with giant flying bogies attacking him –'

Given the provocation I think I was quite reasonable. Imagine _him_ trying to tell me I wasn't old enough to deal with this stuff! Harry Potter, who'd been dealing with this sort of thing since he was 11, was not going to get away with the 'age' argument. As an aside I'd like to say that reading the 7th volume of his biography was an amusing experience when he started going on about people saying Dumbledore was 'only young' when he was friends with Grindelwald. Considering how he was all 'you're too young' at me, it seemed a little ironic that he wouldn't accept youth as an excuse for Dumbledore. But I digress again. Harry tried to argue with us more but we wore him down and finally it was settled; we were all going to London and we were all riding there on Thestrals.

And _that_ was just about the weirdest experience of my life. Thestrals, for those of you who don't remember, are invisible unless you have seen someone die, and at that time I hadn't seen anyone die. It's different now of course, was different by the end of that night in fact, but right then I couldn't see the darn things let alone get onto one. Luna, being the sweet helpful person she is, helped all those of us who couldn't see them onto the back of one each, and then we were off.

Flying the darn things was even worse than getting on, though. Just put yourself in our position. You can feel that you're on something's back, you can feel the wings moving around you, feel the mane in your hand, but you can't see a thing. It looks to your terrified eyes like you are flip flopping around in mid air and that is one of the most disconcerting, if not positively terrifying, things to see. You see countryside and water beneath you, growing steadily darker and harder to see, which should have been a relief but strangely wasn't. By the time we were flying over the lights of London and starting our descent I was over it all. Back in the Forbidden Forest rushing off on a rescue mission had seemed like a stunningly romantic thing to do. Not romantic in the old 'I love Harry' sense, but romantic in the 'fighting tyranny together and racing off to save the day' sense. But as we landed I found my heart beating erratically in my chest. I had _really_ got myself into this, into breaking into the Ministry for Magic and trying to save one of my friends. As we stepped into the muggle phone box that housed the entrance to the Ministry and Harry was agitatedly getting us into the Ministry itself, it struck me just how big what we were doing was. We were about to face the worst villain our world knew and I was suddenly terrified out of my wits. I wouldn't back out, no way. But I think it was a good thing for me to have that blinding realisation; thankfully it was before we got too far into the mess that I woke up to the gravity of the situation. I was still going to do it, yes, because Harry and all my other friends wanted to do it. But at least I already realised it was a deadly serious mission we were on and not a DA adventure as we slowly sank into the ground and into the Ministry.


	33. Chapter 33

_Man it's been ages since I posted. I'm really sorry about that. Life seems to have settled back down so things should go back to much faster updates. Thanks to all for your patience and kind words. I hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 32: At the Ministry.

I took a firm grip on myself as the phone box shuddered to a stop inside the Ministry. The doors swished open and we walked out cautiously. All recklessness was gone now. I could see Harry was still really eager, desperate to get inside and find Sirius but the quiet and the gravity of what we were doing had sunk in and we were all more cautious as we moved through the silent echoing cavern of the Ministry's Entrance Hall.

We ran, yes, but it was with a sense of purpose and with a goal in mind; there was no longer that feeling of mad, purposeless panic. Harry no longer had that wild eyed look as if he was going to barge through whatever stood in front of him. Now he looked determined and in control even though the situation was dangerous. I felt like so long as Harry was in charge we would be OK. It was corny I know, and likely a residual of that old fangirl hero-worship thing, but he just had a vibe about him that said 'leader' and I kind of trusted him to know what to do.

When I think back on it I realise he wasn't actually any more in control or knew any better what to do than the rest of us, but it was the first time I really noticed how he just seemed to 'grow' somehow when he was in a situation that needed commanding. He took charge as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and the weirdest part of it was that to us it did seem natural to follow him. We automatically looked to him to lead. But that's digressing again.

It seemed to take no time at all to get to the lifts, where Harry predictably began to argue again that some of us should stay behind. I was getting a bit annoyed. Ok a lot annoyed. I may have thought he was a leader and I'd follow and all that, but come on! This wasn't about leadership, this was about his 'keeping us safe' thing, and I wasn't having it. The stupid git needed to wake up and realise that he didn't need to do all these things by himself, so I let him know that we weren't staying behind and no lame attempt at leaving 'lookouts' was going to stop us coming too. He still looked terribly frustrated, I could almost see as well as feel it coming off him in waves, but he acquiesced, albeit with poor grace.

So it was that I found myself outside the door to the Department of Mysteries. I recognised it from one of those long ago trips here with Dad, the father/daughter 'bring a child to work' things we did every so often. I remembered those days with a pang. Remembering the fun and vibrancy that usually imbued the Ministry I truly understood for the first time how dangerous this situation was. It was deadly quiet and still in the echoing Ministry hallway and I felt my heart racing as I stared at the door.

The overwhelming sense of expectation diminished a little as we moved into the next room. Well, room wasn't quite the word for it. It was an anteroom I guess, filled on all sides with doors. As the last of us filed in and the door snibbed shut behind us blackness surrounded us sickeningly and at the same time the doors around us spun furiously. We all looked on in dismay as it became impossible to tell which one we had entered by.

'What was that about?' Ron asked, rather densely I thought.

'I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in through.' I tried to say it in an exasperated voice, but it came out a whisper. I was irritated that I couldn't talk normally, but we were oppressed somehow by the silence of the eerily darkened room around us.

Neville seemed very uncomfortable. 'How're we going to get back out?' he asked.

I could see that Harry was uncomfortable with the question. He clearly had no idea what he was going to do to get us away, but he put a good spin on it. I don't think the others realised how out of his depth he was beginning to feel, but I sensed his nervous tension as Neville asked the question. Harry's hand tightened on his wand as he said 'Well, that doesn't matter now, we won't need to get out till we've found Sirius –'

Suiting action to words he strode forward with a good approximation of confidence and went through the door immediately ahead of him. This room was clearly not the one he had expected to see and after some whispered conversation we backed back to the place with all the doors and tried another.

The next room we tried was more eerie than anything we'd seen before. In the middle of what seemed to be a huge arena was a simple looking archway covered by a curtain and which seemed to call to me. I was pulled towards it, as someone behind the cloth whispered to me, calling me to join them, to be free. Intensely curious, I found myself climbing the steps towards it, wanting to talk to whoever was calling in such a sweet voice.

I felt a tug on my arm and tried to resist it, but slowly a voice intruded on my thoughts and I could hear the desperation in Hermione's voice as she dragged me away from the enticing archway. I looked up, still dazed and saw Harry, Neville and Luna also all being pulled away and I shivered at the looks on their faces. They were all blank, mindless almost, and I knew without being told that I had looked the same. Suddenly I wanted to get away from there as fast as possible.

We returned once again to the doors and tried several more. None of them opened to the room Harry was looking for and I could sense his fear and worry for Sirius boiling up as one by one each room was not the one he sought. He was getting near to breaking point, I was sure, and I hoped we would find the right place soon. Suddenly his demeanour changed as he pushed into another room.

This one was beautiful; the light that filled it was dancing and playing over the walls. There were clocks on every conceivable surface, gleaming and polished. It was a visceral representation of time and for some reason I was fascinated by a small egg that wound its way through time becoming a bird before reforming and beginning its journey again. I loved the way time seemed to replay itself and the endless possibilities represented by the circling of that one egg. It seemed to be telling me that any and all mistakes could be relived and undone, that nothing was forever. It was a comforting thought. Unfortunately Harry hustled us past it and into a room on the far side.

We had been hushed before but now we became truly silent. This was it, the moment we had come here for. We were about to meet up with the most vile villain any of us had ever heard of. We'd been scared by stories of him and his Death Eaters as children, well most of us had. I cast a look sideways at Harry and the others beyond him. Harry looked determined; as I watched he squared his shoulders and stood straighter. His chin took on a very set position, jutting out belligerently. He looked almost scary in the dim blue light of the room.

The rows of glass balls stretching out ahead of us were filled with a kind of strange power that was almost palpable as we walked forward. As we got closer to row 97 where Harry had seen Sirius my heart rate, which had settled a little during the endless attempts to find the right door, had picked up pace again. We were so close …nearly there. Soon I would have to face Tom Riddle again. Was I ready for that moment? I hadn't thought of it before, but now that it had come to this I was terrified. What if he possessed me again?

But wait.

Wasn't this row 97? But where was Sirius? Where was Voldemort? Something was off here. Harry was getting worried, I could tell. His face was pale white and his breath was coming in hitches, almost sobs but not quite. He couldn't seem to accept that something wasn't right; he kept insisting on moving forward, looking wildly around for where Sirius could be.

The look of defeat that had so wounded me when I talked to him in the library was suddenly back; he was crumpling in on himself, allowing himself this moment of despair. Then Ron called out and Harry's head snapped toward the sound. There was a weird urgency in Ron's voice that called us all over to him.

'Harry? Have you seen this?'

'What?' Harry sounded sullen, like he expected someone to tell him off, say he was stupid or something. But I know that was far from my mind right then. The look on his face was enough to hold my tongue, even if I had wanted to shout at him. Even Hermione seemed subdued. She had been right, it seemed, but didn't revel in it as she could do sometimes.

'It's -- it's got your name on.' Ron added, looking at one of the spheres.

Harry looked as confused as the rest of us as he stared at the small glass ball. He reached out and picked it up. It lay there, small and uninteresting in his hands. We all stared at it, perplexed. I glanced at Harry again and his mouth was set in a hard line; I could tell he was beating himself up about what had happened here, for leading us into this place, and coming here to have this – thing be all to show for it.

'Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.'

I jumped, and terror struck into me. Lucius Malfoy's voice was smooth as silk but contained so much menace that I let out an involuntary gasp. Spinning around, I noticed that several black figures were materialising around us.

In a daze I noticed that Harry had lost the defeated look again, back in charge of both himself and the group in the face of this threat. While he spoke with more courage to Malfoy and his cronies than I could have hoped to dredge up, I was looking around. The faces were horribly familiar from the _Daily Prophet_'s strident news stories. These were the escaped prisoners from Azkaban, the Death Eaters who had so terrifyingly broken free. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Neville's face twist with rage as he gazed at the woman with them.

Dazedly I noticed that Harry was trying to get our attention, saw him kick out at Hermione. In a vicious whisper Hermione hissed 'smash shelves when he says' at me and I caught her eye briefly to let her know I'd heard. From then on I ignored the approaching Death Eaters and focused on Harry. I could tell the moment before he shouted; his hand tightened on his wand and I held myself ready.

'NOW!' he bellowed, and we all shouted 'reducto' as we pointed at the shelves around us. The Death Eaters were taken by surprise as row upon row of glass fell onto them, and we were able to dash away.

After that I don't have a very clear memory of what happened at all. It was a confused mass of rushing and fighting our way through to get to a place of safety. Somewhere along the way we got separated, and I felt bereft when I found I wasn't with Harry. But to be honest I was concerned far too much with getting myself out of that place whole to be totally worried about who I was with. It was more a sense of something missing than a conscious knowledge that Harry was with the other group.

I remember grabbing hold of Ron and running out of the room with him, remember turning and shouting for Luna to follow us, trying to get to the closest door to us, remember dodging out the way of flying spells to get through the door. I remember Ron having a run-in with a really weird spell. I still don't know what it was but it made him act really oddly, almost like a child again though not the way he had really been when young. Around about the same time he was hit we were chased into a room that seemed to have no time at all; it was filled with all sorts of planets and I felt someone grab onto my foot. I panicked a little and kicked out but he didn't let go. Somehow in the chaos of trying to fight through the timelessness of the planets my foot seemed to snap and I got very disoriented.

Somehow we managed to get back to the others; I think Luna may have been instrumental in ensuring both Ron and I were safe. We fell over each other and into the room where the others were. Harry looked completely bewildered as he stared at us, but my ankle was so sore I couldn't take anything in. I could feel the cold sweat start up on my face and I slid to the floor. Distantly I could hear the others murmuring around me, but it's all a bit of a blur.

I did regain enough control of myself to get really furious when Harry tried to make Luna help me hobble out of there.

'It's only my ankle, I can do it myself!' I snarled at them all, but then almost fell over as I tried to stand and walk by myself. Looking at Harry's white face again, I realised now wasn't the time to argue, now was the time to work together as a team to get out of this terrible place. All those times with my dad the Ministry had seemed like a magic kingdom, now it felt like hell and I just needed to get out. Being the independent female who refused help, even when it was truly needed, wasn't going to help anyone in this situation.

So I allowed Luna to help me and it was once more a confusing jumble of sensations. We seemed to go into a hundred rooms before getting somewhere we could hear the Death Eaters coming. I see from reading Harry's account that it wasn't as chaotic as I remember it, but to me the only vivid thing in this whole situation, apart from Harry's white and drawn face directing us all, was the moment we all turned as Ron called a brain to him. It was a moment suspended in time, just staring in horror as it clasped onto him and seeing Harry's frantic efforts to get it off. Then I saw a jet of red light and everything went blank

Unlike the time when I was possessed by Tom Riddle, this time I woke suddenly possessed by a sudden fear. I have no idea how much time had passed, but I could hear blasts and flashes from the room next door and hear shouting and horrifying laughter. Through it all came a seductive call, a whisper to come and join the sweet voice once again.

I finally realised where I was. That must be the room with the curtained archway. Whatever was happening was going on in there. I got myself up onto all fours and managed to crawl a few feet closer to the door. Just as I got close enough to catch sight of Harry in the middle of the group struggling with Neville, and see Sirius duelling by the archway with the woman who I now know to Bellatrix Lestrange, I heard from a distance Neville shouting for Dumbledore.

I saw Harry slump in relief as Dumbledore arrived and took over but I couldn't join in feeling his relief as I could see Sirius still battling with Bellatrix. There was just something about the situation that worried me, and I was fixated on that one pair. Even Harry couldn't draw my eyes away so I saw when Bellatrix's spell hit Sirius and he fell backwards through the arch. I screamed but no-one heard me over the commotion.

Harry broke my heart right then. As my mind processed what I was seeing, his impassioned yelling drifted even to me, and the depth of the pain in his voice as Lupin caught and held him back still brings tears to my eyes all these years later. It was the sound of someone who has already lost far too much refusing to let go of that one last thing. I knew then there was nothing to be done. Sirius Black was dead.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 33: Aftermath.

Things happened far too fast after the terrifying knowledge of death for me to process them effectively. In a blur I watched as Harry raced towards me, following Bellatrix Lestrange who was trying to escape. She didn't notice me, but I wriggled as fast as I could towards Luna anyway, wanting the slim comfort of another human in case she turned her cold eyes on me. As I moved I saw Dumbledore holding a hasty whispered conversation with the other Order members and then apparating out.

Kingsley Shacklebolt came into the room we were in soon after that and organised a portkey for us all to get home. I was terribly worried about Hermione and Ron, but Kingsley's calm, soothing voice was so reassuring that I meekly obeyed his instructions and soon found myself back at Hogwarts in Professor Flitwick's office. He was clearly waiting for us.

'Professor … I … I'm sorry. I wish – I mean –' The words sounded hollow to me, thinking of everything we had done that day and being unable to articulate my deep sorrow at what we had brought about. To my surpsise he gave me a gentle smile.

'Not to worry Miss Weasley. We have more pressing things to think about right now.'

I looked at him blankly.

'Miss Granger and your brother, Miss Weasley. They are both due back and both are, I understand, not very well.'

Just then mediwizards carrying both Ron and Hermione arrived through the floo. He was right; neither of them looked very good at all. Both were unconscious and Ron was deathly pale with livid purple patches where the brain had held onto him.

'Yes, right upstairs. This way, this way …' said Flitwick and bustled out of the office with the medics close behind. I hobbled after them as fast as I could, but was stopped at the doorway to the hospital wing by Madame Pomphrey, who fixed my ankle with one practised wave of her wand.

'No, Miss Weasley. This is not something for students to watch. You can come back when I send for you. Right now, you'd just be in the way.'

Knowing she was right, but not happy that I was unable to help or be with my brother, I slowly wandered back to the Common Room. Neville and Luna had long since disappeared so I had the hallways to myself. And, finally, had some time to think and worry. Ron and Hermione were in good hands, I reminded myself. I was reluctant to stop worrying about them, however, because that would mean I'd have to worry about Harry.

Of course that did it. I'd allowed my thoughts to go there and now there was no stopping me from thinking of him. I thought back to my last two memories of him, of the agonised screaming for Sirius and then the blind rage as he chased after Bellatrix. I hoped he didn't find her at all; he looked out for blood, and I couldn't blame him for that. But this wasn't some pathetic student rival; this was Bellatrix Lestrange, chief Death Eater and murderer.

My frantic musings were interrupted when I ran up against someone else. Blushing furiously I looked up and realised I'd run into Dean Thomas, one of the 5th Year Gryffindors and a fellow DA member.

'Ginny! Did you hear the rumours? You-Know-Who is back, and –'

'We knew that already, Dean. Remember? That whole DA thing …' Embarrassment made my voice a little harsh, but he just smiled and understood.

'No, Ginny. I mean everyone's saying it. He was right there in the Ministry.'

I felt faint at the thought. 'He was there? Really?' I swayed a little.

Dean caught hold of me and looked at me oddly.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'I – I was there, Dean. It's just freaky to think he was there too.'

'You were there? Really?'

I nodded miserably

'But you didn't see him?'

'No. I didn't, no. But –'

Suddenly I was overwhelmed by the thought that after everything else, after all Harry had been through, that he might have met up with Voldemort as well. My worry that I would be possessed again leapt over to a new worry that Harry might have been a target as well. Dean noticed my discomfort, and without asking another thing about it he took my hand and helped me into the Gryffindor Common Room. He was really nice, took care of me and didn't press me for more information, though I knew he was boiling with questions. I felt safe and at ease with him. It was … nice.

I spent the rest of that day curled up in a corner of the common room, starting every time the portrait hole opened, hoping it would be Harry coming back. I didn't admit it to myself, but I was really worried about him, worried that something might have happened as he had chased after Bellatrix.

I could see Dean looking at me often during that day, and for some reason it gave me a little thrill whenever I noticed. I looked at him occasionally, considering him in a new light. It had to say something that I was drawn to him even while Harry, my fangirl crush of so long, was not accounted for and while I thrummed with worry over him, right? I got flutters too whenever I noticed Dean looking at me and I smiled back at him far more than I felt I ought to, given the situation.

'Ginny. Ginny!' I pulled my glance away from Dean yet again, startled to find myself looking at Neville.

'Neville! What's up?'

'We can go to the hospital wing now. Everyone's there … even Harry, so I'm told.'

I flushed at the suggestion in his voice as he said that. It still embarrassed me how much everyone remembered those old school girl crush days. It was particularly bad since I was on edge over Harry. But that wasn't because I still liked him. I mean Neville was there, he must have seen how bad it was for Harry, too. Shouldn't he be concerned as well? I shook off the idea that maybe I was a _little_ more concerned than other people. I wasn't about to face that right now. I made sure to smile at Dean as I went past and was rewarded with a heart stopping grin in return.

The next few days were weird. Yes, weird is really the only way to describe it. On the one hand I was really worried about Harry. It was immediately obvious on entering the hospital wing that day that Ron and Hermione were both going to be fine. In fact that should really have been obvious to me from the fact that they were brought back here rather than to St Mungos, but I hadn't really been thinking straight earlier. Harry, on the other hand, was a very different story.

He wandered the castle in a daze, never really settling to anything. He wasn't connecting with anyone properly, just making bland small talk and whenever things got too deep in a conversation he would make some excuse and disappear. I watched him with sad eyes as he quietly seemed to hollow out once again. The memory of his anguish at Sirius's death stopped me from going to him because I just had … nothing. No way to even begin to bridge that pain.

But even through my misery at the way Harry was acting I was involved in something much more romantic and sweet. Dean and I grew slowly closer. We ended up sitting together in the common room a lot; possibly by accident, possibly by his design. He didn't have the best sense of humour around and looked rather blank sometimes when I'd make a sarcastic comment, but he was fun to be with and very relaxing after all the stress.

The thing I appreciated most about Dean, though, was that he never once pressed me to talk about what had happened at the Ministry. Everyone else hounded me for answers. What was You Know Who like? Was it true someone dies? Was there really a prophecy? But Dean never did that. He always just talked to me as me, there was no attempt to get information out of me, and I loved that about him.

He was a comforting, solid presence in the midst of all the craziness around me and I admit I fell for him. I actually fell quite hard. After Michael I had thought it would take ages before I got interested in someone again, but I was just as romantically thrilled with Dean as I was with Michael.

And Dean was a very romantic guy, even though he hid it so well from his mates (though I was pretty sure Seamus knew). For example, he brought me flowers the day he asked me to go out with him. It was so lovely to be led out of the castle and down to the lake to find a bunch of flowers waiting for me and a gushing explanation of why he wanted to get together. I had no hesitation in saying yes and the smile that lit up his face was beautiful.

The only sad thing about it all was that the school term was so close to ending. It was a very few days between that declaration by the lake and our parting on the train. I didn't even get to ride on the train with him that day because he and his mates were having a boys only party and girlfriends were very definitely not invited. I had to be contented with a hasty kiss in the corridor and a promise to write each other constantly over the summer.

I sat instead with Harry, Ron and Hermione. I was trying to work up the courage to tell Ron that I had a) broken up with Michael and b) started going out with Dean so I was actually relieved when the conversation turned to relationships. I was relieved even though it was Cho who started it off and my heart twisted just a little as Harry watched her pass the compartment with a sad little smile on his face.

'What's – er – going on with you and her, anyway?' Ron piped up, clearly uncomfortable but with an air of wanting to help out his best mate by knowing the worst.

'Nothing' said Harry in a surprisingly strong voice. Maybe that sad smile hadn't been for her after all.

'I – er – heard she's going out with someone else now' added Hermione. I breathed a soft sigh of relief. Here it was; I would be able to tell them in a very casual way without making a song and dance about it. Though I knew Ron would; he had that 'over protective big brother' vibe down pat.

'Who's she going out with now, anyway?' Ron had turned to Hermione, but this was my big chance. Hermione kept her silence which allowed me to provide that information.

'Michael Corner'

He spun to look at me with his mouth wide open, and I saw Harry look up too.

'Michael – but – but you were going out with him!'

'Not any more.' He looked befuddled so I added the reason why we broke up.

'Well,' he said cheerfully, 'I always thought he was a bit of an idiot. Good for you. Just choose someone – better – next time.'

As he said it he cast a weird look towards Harry. _Oh Ron_, I thought. _For heaven's sake, do you really think that after all this time Harry is going to notice me? _Thankful that I had something to come back to that comment with, I said 'Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas; would you say he's better?'

'WHAT?'

The ensuing sibling 'conversation' had the beneficial effect of making Harry look a little less like a walking zombie. He was trying to suppress a grin at Ron's sibling outrage over my having chosen yet another boyfriend without his permission. I was pleased to be of service of course, but as we got closer to the station I could see him shutting down again.

Thankfully, the Order of the Phoenix realised he'd be feeling isolated and worried about spending time with his horrific relatives again, so they had a posse waiting at the station to help him. One by one Hermione, Ron and I lined up alongside them as they talked to Harry's uncle. While he still looked despondent and that defeated look he kept sliding into all year was back, he did seem happy to see us there on his side. No-one was willing to leave him in isolation like he'd endured last year.

The last thing we left him before he was dragged away by his terrible relatives was a promise from all of us to come get him if he was unhappy. And a rock solid pledge to get him to our house as soon as possible. I watched him recede in the distance, hanging on to the knowledge that we'd see him soon, and be able to care for him properly. Two weeks wasn't long, and he'd be with us in a happy home soon enough.


	35. Chapter 35

**Fifth Year**

Chapter 34: The Burrow again

The first thing I need to tell you is that, even though it may seem like it during my account of this year, I wasn't oblivious to all the pain and sorrow around me. I was just a little _more_ interested in the romantic side of life. Miss Romantic made her presence known again, but this was a slightly more mature Miss Romantic. She didn't mope and moon and write dreadful Valentines but she did enjoy having a boyfriend, more even than she had last time. Perhaps we should rename her Miss Hormonal; she certainly thought about boys a lot more than she ever had in the past anyway.

I must say that even with the renewal of the war I had a great time that summer. I had a boyfriend so my newfound confidence in talking to Harry skyrocketed and I was my usual smartass self with him; the one everyone else had seen all the time but he'd never really got a handle on. Harry, it seemed, enjoyed a bit of sarcasm. He shared the same sense of humour with me, and we were both often cracking up over the same stupid things. Oh wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

At that start of that summer I was too preoccupied with Dean and receiving his letters to even think about the great Harry Potter (yes I sometimes still called him that in a fit of being snarky and eye rolling towards my younger self. I really wasn't kind to her at that age). I was pleased of course because I knew that he was going to be visiting us early that year. A bare 2 weeks into the holidays and we would have him with us for the whole rest of the time. I kind of almost wished I still felt the same way about him as before because then I'd be able to really enjoy the time we spent together that holidays. Yeah please, don't look at me like that, OK. I was a little in denial about my feelings. I truly thought that I was completely over the 'boy who lived'.

Hermione's advice about being myself rang in my ears constantly, but I wasn't using the other boys as a way to get to Harry. I honestly felt like maybe I could be his friend and get on OK with him and not even try to be his girlfriend. That dream had gone out the window. I was happy with Dean and really pleased to be comfortable enough in my own skin around him to be Harry's friend. I was proud, yes you heard me, proud of my maturity and grown-upness about this whole thing. Yes, you're allowed to roll your eyes now. Anyone who thinks they're being grown up and mature has a long way to go to actually get there. But at the start of that summer I truly thought I had achieved maturity.

The morning I was told he had arrived in the middle of the night I was so casual as to be able to just dump myself down on Harry's bed without a second thought when I got to his room. Of course the fact that I was complaining about the other big happening of that summer, the advent of Phlegm -- I mean my dear sister-in-law to be Fleur -- did help a little. Bill was besotted with the pampered princess of arrogance. I couldn't stand her. The way she looked down at us and our life style, the way she dropped all the boys to their knees when they saw her, the way she tried to take over every bloody thing; it all came together to make me loath her.

Soon after I got to his room we were in the middle of a full-blown rant about her with poor Harry looking rather confused by what was going on. Then, when we were still in full flight she came in the room. Mum was trailing behind, looking annoyed as she usually did whenever Phlegm came in the room. Or when she did anything really. Mum also couldn't stand her, but she was a little more polite and didn't show it.

All of a sudden I found myself unceremoniously on the floor. Harry had yanked so hard on his covers that both Hermione and I had flown off the bed. I was pretty annoyed with him, to tell the truth. Not that I 'liked' him, oh no. But the way his eyes lit up as _she_ came in the door was horrific. Like I said, all the boys did it, but it was worse somehow to see Harry being overcome by her; he had always seemed more sensible than that.

I exchanged a look with Hermione who was also looking mutinous but she, at least, had been used to Ron going funny around Phlegm ever since she got to the Burrow. After bestowing many kisses and simpering smiles on Harry, Phlegm finally left the room and the boys' faces began to come back to normal … finally. Honestly. She wasn't _that_ great, and you don't see me going gaga over some guy just because he looks good.

'Mum hates her' I said in an undertone to Harry who was still looking a little confused by everything that had just happened.

'I do not hate her! I just think they've hurried into this engagement, that's all!'

_Yeah right_ I thought and rolled my eyes. Mum wasn't hiding her feelings very well at all, all of us could tell how she really felt about Phlegm, and besides she was nattering on about elopements and the war and it being all too fast and people were just rushing into marriage without thinking.

'Including you and Dad' I said cheekily. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry begin to snigger and change it into a slight cough. He caught my eye and we grinned at each other. Mum got fully wound up into her usual 'thing' about why she and Dad were perfect for each other and why Fleur wasn't at all right for Bill. I agreed with her on one part of her rant. Mum may not have wanted to say it so I did it for her. Fleur was a cow, a prize cow and neither of us wanted her in the family. Even Hermione wasn't happy with the idea and she wasn't even related to us. I cast a look between her and Ron and added in my head – yet.

Then, to undermine all the 'cool' I had just managed tell myself I'd achieved by being myself around Harry, I let my idiotic left over baby-girl crush feelings get in the way. He was asking Ron if you didn't get used to Phlegm if she was in the same house with you all the time. That annoyed the hell out of me, even though I wasn't jealous of course, so I mentioned that we were trying to get Tonks into the family and Hermione helped me out with explaining how she was nicer and smarter than Fleur.

By the way that 'smarter' comment was so very Hermione. She was always really peeved when the pretty but stupid girl got all the attention when the less-pretty but really intelligent girl got left out. The looks she was throwing at Ron were incredible too. You'd think the stupid git would just wake up and realise that she liked him and that he liked her and just snog her already. I sighed internally. But I wasn't really one to talk. There I was telling myself that Harry bloody Potter didn't mean anything to me any more and that I was just annoyed by his reaction to Fleur for the sake of general womankind.

But what he said next stung far more than it should have coming from 'just a friend' and I'm afraid I opened my sarcastic mouth and spat an attack at him.

'I suppose you like the way Phlegm says "'Arry" do you?'

He looked like he had been caught in a trap and I felt a twinge of guilt over attacking the poor boy who'd only said she wasn't dumb after all, and when I looked at it in an unbiased way I knew he was right. But I was still a bit annoyed by the boys' attitudes and so I added 'I'd much rather have Tonks in the family. At least she's a laugh.'

And whoops, that did it. Ron made a comment and then the conversation turned to the looming topic we had all been avoiding. Sirius. Harry's face closed down completely and he began shovelling his eggs into his mouth as fast as he could to avoid our eyes. Dammit. _I didn't mean to hurt you Harry, I really didn't_. That was the only thought that went through my mind that moment.

He avoided joining in the conversation between Ron and Hermione too much and I felt miserably like it was my fault for allowing things to drift to Sirius. Still, when Mum came in to collect me to go help her deal with Phlegm I wasn't at all happy to be dragged away. And it had nothing to do with wanting to be near Harry. Nothing. I'm serious. I just didn't want to be with Phlegm. Yeah, yeah … there was that massive denial thing again.

So let's just ignore the fact that I was still in total denial about Harry James Potter, and just focus on the things we did together in a friendly way. I had a great time that holidays just being myself around him. We played wonderful games of quidditch almost every day and while I was never on Harry's team I still caught his approving gaze on me at times. He was incredibly competitive and so was I so we both spent most of each game trying to deflect the other from getting the snitch or scoring a goal. It was so nice not to be protected, and allowed to stretch my wings for once and challenged to do better by someone who was really trying to win.

We also laughed so much together that summer and it is really true what they say, you know. Laughing with someone is one of the best ways to get to know them. Harry was incredibly sarcastic and witty with what he said which appealed to my own sense of humour. He didn't make light or silly jokes like the twins but he had a dark brooding humour that flashed out at weird moments. He seemed to me to be the funniest person I knew.

And when Dean's letters would arrive I would compare them mentally with what Harry had been saying. It was unfair of course because Dean didn't try to be funny in his letters; he was trying to be sincere and romantic but it often made me roll my eyes. I mean honestly 'You are the most radiant thing in my world. I have no light without you here'? Who even says that stuff? Dean tried too hard, and I resented it a little. Shouldn't he be himself with me by now?

When we'd got together the romance was sweet, and in person it likely still would have been, but in a letter it came out as incredibly soppy and overdone. That made me giggle. My 12 year old self would likely have swooned at what Dean had written, but my 15 year old self was well past that sort of crap. I wanted sincere feelings not sentimental platitudes.

The one redeeming feature of Dean's letters was the pictures he sent me. He had captured me from memory and they would be snaps of me doing things I recalled doing but they made me look so … I don't know … so beautiful. So much 'more' than I felt myself in reality. It made me warm inside to know that he saw me that way. That I wasn't just 'little Ginny Weasley' to this one person. And my heart did beat a little faster when I got his letters. I didn't think I was in love or anything, but I figured that people my age didn't feel love like that and so what we had was normal.

There was the usual stuff hanging over us like a cloud that summer of course. The war was affecting our lives in stupid ways. I mean we couldn't even go to Diagon Alley without Dad around so it was ages before we could get our school things. And then there were the stories in the papers about the disappearances and even deaths happening in our world. They seemed to pop up almost every day and you could never really get completely away from them.

It was a pleasant enough summer, though, especially having Harry and Hermione with us and those details didn't loom large in our teenage lives, but I could tell Mum and Dad were worried and that this wasn't just something that was going to blow over. I also had a feeling it was going to get worse, probably much worse, before it got better. And sadly I thought Harry was going to be mixed into the centre of it. There was that crazy rumour that the prophecy we had collected that day in the Ministry was a prophecy of Harry's ability to defeat You Know Who. He was being called 'the Chosen One' by all the papers and we teased him about it unmercifully but he didn't seem to care much about the title.

Still, I saw the way Mum, especially, looked at him and I was sure there was _something_ to the idea that at some point he was going to go and try something to end the war. I tried to ignore it but that tinged my holiday with something that wasn't so nice. The idea that someone I knew so well and cared about was going to go up against You Know Who was quite frankly terrifying when I allowed myself to think of it. Which, blessedly, wasn't often.

That summer for me was a great time all in all. It was fun to not be the only girl in there any more. Having Hermione around for girly chats was so much fun. Having her sleep in my room where we could giggle all night was great. I'd never really got into those giggle chats, as we called them, with my other dorm mates because they were a little more obsessed with hair and clothes and boys than I was. I preferred to talk about quidditch and none of my dorm mates were that interested; of course neither was Hermione but she at least was into deeper stuff than the latest fashions for hairstyling.

I liked my dorm mates well enough but they weren't my best friends. I got on better with the boys in my year and Hermione and Luna of course. So having Hermione there to confide in at home was incredibly fun. She heard about Dean and our relationship, and she saw all the pictures he'd done for me. She cooed satisfyingly over my stories of our first kiss and the way we got together.

And, what was even better, I was finally true friends with Harry. I really enjoyed his company without the slightly hunted look he wore when he thought I was going to go all school girl crush on him as I had in the past. When it became obvious I wasn't going to do that, he became himself properly and he was such a cheeky, irreverent, funny person.

Having those two extra people around the house made things seem so much happier. In between the fear and the horror of the war we were all pretty insulated and had a great time just hanging out. It was, looking back, one of the best times of my life.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 35. A Book With Brains.

I think the thing that best illustrates the way I felt about Harry at the start of that year was the train ride back to Hogwarts. We got ourselves all organised, by which I mean we had managed to drag all our luggage onto the train and have it in heaps around our feet, and Ron and Hermione had gone off to do their prefectly duties. I had organised to sit with Dean since I hadn't seen him all summer, and was just gathering my things up to head off to where he was waiting.

All of a sudden, just after we entered the train, Harry came out with 'Fancy trying to find a compartment?' I felt one tiny momentary twinge of 'oh Merlin, yes, please let's sit together' but it was replaced so fast with a longing to see Dean that I was able to say 'no thanks' very casually. Seeing Harry's face as I walked away made me feel really weird though. He looked annoyed and surprised, and a little lost as well.

I had noticed all the stares he'd got as we walked through the platform and came up to the train, and I thought he'd probably wanted to sit with someone who wasn't going to do that to him. It never even occurred to me that he might be interested in me. We had become such firm friends over the summer without any fangirl stuff getting in the way that I just assumed he wanted a mate to be with him. I felt very sorry for him, especially since, hide it as he might try, I could tell that the loss of Sirius was still affecting him badly.

Still, I wasn't really tempted to change my mind. He did, after all, have Luna and Neville with him. He'd be fine. I rolled my eyes at that last thought because, you know what? It was so Mum-like. I realised, chuckling to myself, that I'd been trying to look after him the way Mum often did. _Get a grip Weasley_ I admonished myself. _He's not your son and he doesn't need looking after_.

Being back with Dean was both good and a little weird in a way. I felt almost awkward with him having not seen him for so long and having been together for such a short time previous to that separation. But it wasn't much time before we had got back into our rhythm of speaking together, ignoring those around us, and kissing occasionally.

However, I quickly decided that I wanted to go out for some fresh air in the corridor. The compartment we were in reeked of boy sweat and the guys we were with, Seamus and some other Gryffindors from my year, were making such rude boy-like comments about the girls they saw passing the compartment door, not to mention hooting every time Dean and I kissed, that I just needed to get out.

I ran into Zacharias Smith, that complete turd from the DA, and he was so obnoxious about asking questions and I was still so peeved by the way the boys had whooped and hollered when I kissed Dean that I just lost the plot with the obnoxious git. He was just as annoying as he was when we were in the DA. I remembered the way he had scoffed at Harry's insistence on teaching us expelliarmus and how he had been so obnoxious about the whole DA thing, so when he started in on the prophecy and wanting to know what it said and how we got to it I just lost it, like I said. Stupid git didn't know what happened to him.

I must say I am very proud of my ability with the bat bogey hex and I was just enjoying being congratulated by the other students in the corridor when I looked up and became very nervous. A teacher, well I assumed it was a teacher since he was on the train with us, was coming down the corridor towards us. I tried desperately to think of a good reason why I might have been using magic on a fellow student, and opened my mouth to say something when he burst out: 'My my, Miss. What a fantastic hex; I couldn't have done better myself. Would you care to come to a little luncheon I'm having for some of my fellow passengers?'

'Oh, no, thank you. I'm fine.'

'Nonsense, my dear. I have Harry Potter coming, Mr Longbottom, Cormac McLaggen. All fellow Gryffindors, yes? You must come and at least say hello.'

I reluctantly allowed myself to be dragged towards the compartment with him. But when I found myself tucked in between him and the wall I was having huge second thoughts. This was not at all my scene. The people he had gathered were such an odd bunch and I couldn't figure out the connection between me and them and why we had been selected to attend this 'little luncheon.'

Things got slightly better when Harry and Neville came in. I gave them a grimace around the teacher's large frame and Harry smiled back sympathetically. _Of course_, I thought. _This was the teacher he met while he was out with Dumbledore before he came to us_. He knew exactly what this guy was like. And I recalled suddenly what he'd said about what Dumbledore had told him about this guy 'collecting' prize students to help him gain important contacts. I shivered at the thought. I wasn't sure why I was being collected but I didn't like the idea one bit.

The time in that compartment during 'luncheon' was excruciating because Slughorn's (I dragged the memory of his name from where Harry had told us about him) reasons for picking people seemed do damn foolish. I mean who cares what someone's dad is or how beautiful their mum is? Harry I understood because he had done some incredible things himself, but what was with the rest of us? It didn't take long for me to decide I really didn't like Slughorn. Oh, he seemed Ok as a person but ugh, his grooming of these connected people just made me shudder. I was glad to get out of there as soon as I could, and it looked like Harry and Neville felt the same way.

I was hit yet again by how untouched Harry was over his fame. He never seemed to use it to his advantage for anything. This Slug club thing was a perfect example. It could have been an ego trip for someone else, but for Harry it was painful. Being used for his fame in exchange for a leg up just didn't sit well with him. It was obvious to me that Slughorn wasn't going to be successful trying to collect Harry but I wasn't sure that Slughorn himself had realised that yet.

Still I didn't focus too much on Harry then and after a short conversation I was really eager to go back to sit with Dean; even with all the boyness in that compartment it was better than Slughorn and his sycophants. For a while I almost forgot about Harry. I don't mean I forgot him exactly; more that I pushed him out of my mind.

Just to give you an example of my new found 'not interested in Harry-ness' you may recall my terror for him and Ron that very first day of my school life when I noticed that he wasn't at the table? Well, this year I didn't even notice that Harry was missing until he walked in with Snape, blood all over his face and set and determined-looking jaw. _Huh_, I thought. _I wonder what he's been up to_, but didn't obsess over it like I would have in the past. Harry really was 'out of mind, out of sight' for me in those days.

In fact it was a long time, comparatively, before I found out the Draco Malfoy story from that day. It annoyed me no end, but mostly because Harry had been so stupid as to go into the Slytherin carriage alone. Oh yes, I hated Malfoy for attacking Harry, but I wasn't such a fangirl any more to think that Harry was blameless in this situation. I thought he'd have learned by now that thoughtless recklessness could lead him into trouble.

It wasn't til days later that I overheard something that really fired me up with worry over Harry. I was so concerned by what I heard that I even butted into a conversation I had no business in.

'Hang on. Did I hear right?' I could hear the panic in my voice, but I pressed on anyway, desperate to keep him from making the same mistake I did. 'You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?'

I was terrified for him but also incredibly angry. Did he not learn a damn thing from what happened to me all those years ago? How the hell could he even think of using handwritten instructions and not think where they might be coming from? I could see he understood exactly where I was coming from. Both Ron and Hermione were looking confused about what I was saying, but as I locked eyes with Harry I could see the understanding burning in them. Ok, so he did remember then. My anger dissipated a tiny little bit, if not my terror.

'It's nothing' he said, then dropped his voice so only those of us right next to him could hear. 'It's not like, you know, Tom Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled in.'

This didn't exactly diminish my worry.

'But you're doing what it says?' I was getting really annoyed by now. Couldn't he see the point I was trying to make? He brushed this one off as well. Good thing I didn't still like the prat or I might have been really upset at the way he was dismissing my concerns. His behaviour was incredibly arrogant and irritating, and I hated being dismissed so easily.

Thankfully Hermione was on my side and she was careful to make sure there was nothing dodgy about the book. Harry was irritated with her I could tell, and the only good thing about the way he had behaved was that he understood immediately why I was upset and he didn't use that 'Merlin, girls are so damn annoying' tone when he spoke to me, not like he did when he talked to Hermione.

I spent a bit of time over the next wee while trying to decide if that meant I was more important to him or less important. If he could snap at Hermione was he closer to her? Or if he didn't want to snap at me did that mean … I decided in the end that all it meant was that he was more comfortable with Hermione and more likely to vent at her. Though it did mean a lot to me for a long time that he knew exactly what my fears were without my having to say them. And while he did a bad job of it he _did_ try to allay them.

When I look back I can see my ambivalence about Harry starting to come to the fore here. One the one hand I thought I was over him and happy to be his friend and on the other I was quite caught up in worrying about what he thought of me. My poor younger self was in massive denial and would remain that way for some time. I often want to go back and shake her and make her wake up, but I think she needed the time to come to it on her own terms.

I focussed myself fairly quickly on my OWLs, and ignored Harry as much as I could apart from during quidditch since he was the captain and all. We still had a great time together and he always made me laugh. His leadership was great and he had a knack of getting everyone to put forth their very best effort just because they didn't want to disappoint him.

Ron … well, Ron was Ron. He sometimes played brilliantly and other times he was crazy bad. I could tell Harry was growing frustrated with him, but he was a great keeper when he allowed himself to relax and just go with the flow. Trouble was he never did go with the flow very often. He had a tendency to over think. And while, like the rest of us, he didn't want to disappoint his captain or the house who so eagerly followed our prospects, he was really good at tripping himself up in his own insecurities.

So my OWL year was pretty self contained at the start. I had my study as I wanted to do well of course and I had quidditch and I had Dean. It was enough, and pretty fulfilling too. I loved Dean's calm way of being a boyfriend during that time. He never pressured me or pushed when I said I wanted to study. He understood how important the OWLs were and respected my decision.

But sometimes I had a terrible habit of being … almost bored with him. He was really nice to me, almost too nice. That's a terrible reason to be annoyed by your boyfriend, but I was. I kept telling myself to pull my head in, appreciate what I had and not to mentally compare Dean's sweetness with Harry's sarcasm or Dean's uber protectiveness with Harry's delight in my, sometimes crazily reckless, quidditch abilities. I tried, basically, to pretend that Dean and I were perfectly suited and to ignore the way I got on better with Harry than with Dean. For the most part I succeeded.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 36. Time With Dean

I was happy. I was. Really, I was. Ok, yes, I was trying to convince myself of that. But I had no real reason not to be happy. I had a great boyfriend and he loved me. I really liked him and we got along great. He was one of the genuinely nicest people I knew and if he was a little blah around the edges, well … everyone had faults right? Dean was an amazing artist and he drew the most gorgeous pictures of me, of our fellow Gryffindors, even of parts of the castle. I particularly liked one he drew of Ron and Hermione where they hadn't noticed anyone watching and were almost snuggled together, poring over something Hermione had brought out of the library.

They were so beautiful together that I just wanted to slap their two heads together, shove the picture under their noses and shout 'come on already! Just snog, dammit' but I held my peace. Hermione wouldn't thank me and anyway Ron just wasn't ready I don't think. But I did ask Dean if I could keep it, and I treasured it up in the hopes that by me treasuring it they would maybe be kept safe for each other. Yeah yeah, I know. There's old Ginny the sap coming out again. But I loved my brother and I adored Hermione and I wanted them to be happy dammit. Any fool could see they were made for each other … well, any fool except my stupidly oblivious brother.

Anyways, there were me and Dean having a good time together. We _were_ good together for a while and at the height of our good times Dean was added to the team by Harry. We were delighted and walked to and from practice together as well as spending as much other time together as we could. Of course, because we were teenagers and that's what teenagers do, we snogged. A lot. We often found ways to be in out of the way places just to snog.

On one such enjoyable occasion, when we'd been taken by the impulse to find a private spot on our way up to the common room, we got company in the form of my dearest brother and his heroic friend. Thankfully I was so enraged by Ron and his idiotic ranting about 'public snogging' and suggesting I was a tart, that I didn't really notice that Harry was there too til after Dean had slunk away. I watched him go with a sneer. _Coward_, I thought and from then on I didn't see him quite the same way. We were still together, and I still had fun, but that moment cast a shadow over our relationship that never really disappeared.

Still, while Ron and I got into a great sibling battle of the egos, Harry stood in our way. Even though I was annoyed at Ron and even though I hated being 'looked after' I appreciated the gesture. Harry was standing up for me against his best friend. He must at least see me as a mate. This was a huge step I decided. So I focussed my rage on Ron. Then he did it. He threw a curse at me under Harry's arm. I lost it. Harry was there, Harry who I had adored since I could remember and who I still harboured residual crush feelings for. Harry was seeing Ron accuse me of being a scarlet woman in front of my boyfriend and trying to curse me every which way as well.

I lost the plot and started yelling horrible things at Ron. I don't remember that day with any satisfaction at all. It was a shoddy, horrid thing to do and I can only blame my temper. I have a very very bad tendency to anger. I'm … well, I can be a bit aggressive when I'm riled up. Poor Ron had borne the brunt of it more than once, but that doesn't make it right.

'Harry's snogged Cho Chang! And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron …' and on it went. To my horror I was on the point of crying and that infuriated me further. Why, oh why did _Harry_ have to see me crying? I think I may have been so harsh to Ron because I was so upset. And when I think back on it I knew I was upset because this was Harry seeing us like this. I knew even then that I didn't really care what Dean thought but the idea of Harry seeing me accused like that devastated me. Plus I was talking about a time that really home to me. Harry snogged Cho Chang a year earlier, and all I ever wanted was for that to be me.

On reflection, when I had stormed back to my dormitory and ranted and screeched and yelled about stupid boys and their stupid idiotic ways and got all my anger out of my system, I realised that the one big reason I was so mad was Harry. I had to say _out loud_ that he had snogged wretched Cho bloody Chang and he was right there seeing me say it and I was soooooo freaking peeved at my dear brother, and … Ok so I hadn't really calmed down that much. But I did notice an interesting thing that had passed me by in the moment.

Harry was looking as angry as Ron. Harry was glaring at Dean as much as Ron was glaring at me. Harry did not look the way boys usually look when they catch people snogging. Not that I was in the habit of being caught snogging (Ok there was this one other time with Michael Corner, but that's not a 'habit' right?). But boys had a reputation for whooping and making boy remarks and being all 'wa-hey' about it. But Harry didn't look pleased. Harry looked pissed off. And there was no reason for that, either. He wasn't my brother to be all 'big brother protecting innocent little sister from her own wanton ways' and anyways the way he reacted wasn't at me like Ron did. He was very definitely glaring at Dean.

A small flutter developed in my tummy. Could he ..? Then reason interrupted me (go away Miss Pragmatic; this is not the time to resurrect yourself! Don't you know you're not wanted here?) and said that he couldn't be and even if he was I was going out with Dean, and I had a huge row with my brother over being able to snog Dean in the open. I was not going to jeopardise that for a 'could be' with someone who was probably not interested.

But the memory of the look in Harry's eyes as I said he'd snogged Cho was etched in my memory. He looked miserable. I don't think he liked being dragged in to being an excuse for me snogging Dean. I don't even know why I said it; it just kind of slipped out. But Harry's eyes, his expressive green eyes, filled with some undefinable emotion when I said that and he looked away. That memory was just … weird. And I filed it away to take out and examine on another day.

I was still so bloody angry at my brother, however, that I left my room and stomped off to Dean's dormitory, glaring at Ron and Harry on the way past though they didn't seem to notice. Each was looking wrapped in his own unpleasant thoughts. A good thorough snogging session did lessen my tension and we spent an enjoyable time abusing Ron and his insults.

I say I don't recall that day with _any_ satisfaction. But that is a bit of a lie. Harry told me later that that was the day he truly realised he had feelings for me. Seeing me with Dean hit him the same way that seeing him with Cho Chang had affected me. Though to me it wasn't as much of a surprise, of course, since you know … that old 11 year old fan-girl crush had paved the way for this more mature attraction and I was used to being passed over by him. But Harry was unprepared for liking me, for the way that seeing me with someone else made him feel. So, the fact that that dreadful day was the day 'he knew' is satisfying in an oblique, crazy kind of way.

Unfortunately, my little outburst had one unexpectedly bad outcome. Ron wasn't talking to me or Dean. Fair enough, we had both expected that and it was way better than having him being all 'protective elder brother' on me. But unfortunately he was also not talking to Hermione. For the life of me I couldn't figure it out for ages. What the hell had she done to the great jerk? But then it hit me. She freaking kissed Krum didn't she? To Ron that was a huge betrayal. Never mind that they weren't together, never mind that it was 2 freaking years ago, never mind that Ron had ignored her girlness for how bloody long. No, Hermione kissed Krum and so she was obviously a scarlet woman too. I mentally rolled my eyes and called him every possible name under the sun. But he was still a pillock and he was still ignoring the poor girl.

I happened to catch Harry's eye one day during that time as he watched Hermione being all hurt by Ron's amazingly idiotic behaviour. I mean it was completely beyond the bounds of normal idiocy even for Ron. Anyway, I could see the frustration in Harry's eyes too. These were his 2 very best friends and one of them was being a complete pillock to the other for no good reason. I smiled at him commiseratingly and he grimaced back. But I understood that he appreciated the gesture.

I wanted, oh how I wanted, to go to him and 'be there' for him because his friends weren't so fun to be with right now. But for a number of reasons, which I cursed myself about late at night when I couldn't sleep, I didn't do it. There was Dean of course. And I may be not the easiest person to get along with always, but I do have a horror, an absolute horror, of letting someone down for no real reason. All that time ago when Ron suggested I go to the Yule ball with Harry, I could have told Neville I wanted to go with someone else. But I didn't. That wouldn't have been right.

And now it really wasn't right for me to ditch Dean for another bloke, especially one I had harboured feelings for … still did if I was totally honest with myself. Which, truthfully, I wasn't much at that time. I had flashes of self insight but they disappeared rather quickly under the flag waving of my decent side. That side of me wouldn't allow me to acknowledge that there might be someone else I liked when I was with a boyfriend. Not to mention that I still thought there was no chance that Harry would see me romantically, so where was the point ditching a perfectly good boyfriend with no guarantee of the other one reciprocating my feelings?

So Dean and I carried on together reasonably well. I slowly grew more and more disenchanted with his ways, but we were still pretty good together. His drawings were still gorgeous and in what I think was increasing desperation he drew more and more of me and him together laughing and being carefree. Unfortunately we weren't quite like that all the time when we actually got to be in the same place. Our time together was increasingly tinged with little arguments so his pictures were increasingly fantasy-based.

One day, however, Dean drew the most amazing picture. He was kept from quidditch practice because of a late detention and got to the pitch just as we were finishing up. There was no reason for him to join us so he sat in the stands as we did the last few exercises before calling it quits. While he was there he did a sketch, just a quick one, of Harry directing us in the practice. We were all in it, all paying rapt attention to him as he gestured while explaining a particularly complex move he wanted us to memorise for next time. Dean caught the fire in his eyes, the passion in his body, and the purpose in his mannerisms. The picture truly caught the essence of who Harry was and even though the rest of us were in it the eye was drawn straight to Harry.

Dean gave it to me after practice because he was very proud of the way he had drawn me. I appreciated the gesture but I kept it mainly so I could take it out and dwell on Harry. And yes, I know that was immensely disloyal. Do you think I didn't berate myself every time I did it? And I told myself it was because I had left over baby girl crush feelings for him, and that he was a good friend and a great captain but I was fooling myself. I was really good at fooling myself, and for a time I really believed it.

Dean was so very kind to me that it felt like kicking a puppy dog when I began to think about breaking up with him. But his possessiveness (I think I may not have hidden the Harry thing as well from other people as I did from myself) and over protectiveness were beginning to drive me nuts. I could feel us slipping apart and while I grieved for the loss of the fun times we'd had I couldn't help but almost hope he'd just do _something_ to justify me wanting to end it with him. 'You're too nice' seemed to be a really inadequate reason to ditch someone, and I couldn't admit to the other possibility now could I? That would have been almost worse. So I stayed with him but kept hoping I could finish it 'reasonably.'


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 37: End of another Era

During the whole time I was drifting away from Dean, Ron was drifting towards someone else. Well, 'drifting' may not be the right word for it really; 'latched at the lip' is a better way to describe what he was doing with Lavender Brown. I remember when they got together after one of our quidditch games. I pretended disinterest when I saw them together in the common room, but inside I was screaming. What the hell was the stupid git thinking?

I knew Hermione would be devastated because I knew from the way she talked to me about him that she was keen on him, and I knew also that this was at least partly my fault. Never did I curse my temper more than I did in the weeks that Ron was hanging off Lavender's lips and Hermione walked around looking brittle and fragile as china. If only I had kept quiet, if only I hadn't told Ron about Krum. 'If only …' became my refrain for ages.

It was actually Harry who snapped me out of it one day. I was sitting in the common room and noticed Hermione go rigid yet again as Ron and Lavender came in and began their snogging session in one of the armchairs, then saw her whisper something to Harry and head upstairs. I guess something of what I was feeling, the guilt and pain at seeing my best friend so very upset, must have shown on my face because Harry came right over and sat next to me.

'It's not your fault you know'

'What?' I was still mesmerised by the enthusiasm of the snogging going on.

'Ron being a git. It's not your fault.'

'Hark at you saying that! Mr 'everything's all my fault' himself!'

He grinned at me and made an ironic, acknowledging bow. 'This still isn't your fault, Ginny. He would have found out sooner or later.'

'I know that, but I shouldn't have lost my temper that day. I just feel that made it worse.'

He gave me a quick hug, and I gave him a watery smile.

'Chin up, OK. This'll come right eventually; it always does,' he said, squeezing my shoulder as he got up and walked away.

I stared after him for a moment or two, then shut my eyes and shook my head to clear it of my sad thoughts. When I opened my eyes again Dean was in front of me. I gave him a bright smile and said 'Hi, what's up?'

'What were you doing canoodling with him?' he hissed at me in a hurt tone.

'What do you mean? I wasn't canoodling!'

'I've seen the way he looks at you.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Dean. We were talking about my stupid brother and his snogathons, and friends are allowed to talk!'

'Well, I don't like it'

'You can not like it all you want, but you can't stop me talking to my friends.'

'He wants to be more than friends …' he muttered, and I got so annoyed that I struggled to get out of the chair in order to stalk off in a dramatic huff. Yes, Miss Dramatic did make her reappearance upon occasion, just to remind me who was in charge. Dean put his hand out as if to help me up.

'I am perfectly capable of standing up by myself, thank you.' I said icily.

'I just wanted to help …' I heard him mutter as I eventually did manage to get out of the deep cushions and start stalking up to the girl's dormitory. I felt a twinge of guilt when I heard that. I knew he was trying to help and I knew I shouldn't have lost my temper with him. Just because he'd struck a nerve about my confused feelings about him and Harry didn't give me the right to take it out on him.

So as soon as I had calmed down I went back to the common room and slipped down next to Dean.

'I'm sorry I yelled at you,' I said. 'I just … these stupid OWLs, and Ron …' I sighed. 'Anyway, I shouldn't have taken it out on you.' I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. 'Forgive me?'

He studied me and then smiled.

'Of course, but only if you'll forgive me. I get stupidly jealous at times even though I know there's no reason.'

'Too right there's not' I said, smiling at him affectionately and squeezing his arm.

And so we carried on. We'd have these stupid little fights and they were increasingly petty like this one. Dean's possessiveness got worse and I began to close in on myself to avoid arguing with him. I mean he was still so very nice to me, sometimes too nice which made me squirm with embarrassment, but he was so jealous of Harry. A combination of being 'looked after' like a piece of porcelain and having an eagle eye kept on me in case someone else looked at me just wore me down.

Now, I wasn't as obsessed with Harry's every move as I had been in the past so I resented Dean's jealousy. There was no stalking behaviour of any type, not even begging Colin to give me a low down on what he'd been up to during the day or surreptitiously trying to listen in to Harry's conversations. But I will admit it was absolutely impossible to miss his obsession with hating Draco Malfoy. Almost every conversation he entered into soon became peppered with references to Malfoy which became a little irritating after a while. I was spared a fair amount of it, of course, but I could see Ron and Hermione beginning to grit their teeth whenever they were with him.

Speaking of the two of them they became friends again even though Ron was still so often lip-locked with Lavender, but I could have done without the way that happened. It's quite a long and convoluted story, but I'll try and iron it out as best I can.

It all started with Harry that year becoming a bit of a heart throb to all the girls in 4th year and up and the excitement generated by one of Slughorn's little 'collection' soirees. He kept throwing these parties all us 'collectees' were expected to go to in order to form 'a useful network' for our futures. They were OK, I guess, when I went which was thankfully not often as Harry kept conveniently scheduling quidditch practice for when they were on.

Anyways that's not important; what was important was that there was a bigger one than usual for Christmas and Slughorn made absolute sure Harry would be at this one and everyone was expected to bring a date. Excitement was running high among the girls as to who Harry would take and there were schemes all over the show as to how he could be caught. One of them by Romilda Vane (one of the girls who thought she was totally 'in' and looked down her nose at anyone who wasn't in her clique) involved a love potion which was pretty horrible.

I remember deciding never to use one on Harry when I was younger so it disgusted me that someone would try this on him. Seriously, if you need to use a love potion on a boy you don't deserve him! Thankfully it didn't work and Harry took Luna instead which pleased me so much as she really was sweet and it was lovely that he thought to ask her. I of course took Dean, who was really wonderful that night and made me believe once again that we had something good, something worth trying to salvage.

But that wasn't the last we heard of the love potion, sadly. Months later on Ron's birthday the chocolates that were laced with it resurfaced and Ron ate some thinking they were a birthday present. It could have been pretty amusing actually; he certainly looked silly as he danced through the common room with a love struck expression on his face over Romilda. But just as Slughorn managed to cure him, he got poisoned by a drink intended presumably to murder either Slughorn or possibly Dumbledore.

Yes that's right, poisoned. It was a horrifying experience for all of us. It was sheer good luck that Harry had the insight to grab a bezoar and counteract the effects; without his actions Ron could have died. I was in shock over it, and didn't know where to turn. Ron was my closest brother and I know we had our moments but we were so close in age and had so much time alone together with everyone else at school that we had become very good friends. The idea that I could have lost him was horrifying and it made the next year that much harder to bear; but that's a story for another time.

Back then, however, Hermione was also jerked to her senses over him. He may have a huge pillock to her and she may have been incredibly hurt by his actions and struck back in immature ways but underneath it all they both adored each other. She never left his bedside until he regained consciousness and while he was still with Lavender, as I said, they were back on good terms. I was glad to see it; as I've mentioned before none of those 3 operates very well without either of the others and the tension between them all while Ron and Hermione were at odds was really hard to watch.

Now as I've said Dean and I were on rocky ground for several months over that year. We had good times of course, I would never stay with someone who if I didn't enjoy being with him on some level, but while we always made up we had silly fights almost constantly especially towards the end. They were usually because Dean was too nice to me, and that sounds so weird when I say it now. But back then he tried to do everything for me and I hated it. I'm sure he was just trying to be caring but I felt stifled and it was as if I wasn't allowed to be my own person. Often my friendship with Harry would be dragged into it as well, and Dean's simmering jealousy just exacerbated the situation.

It all came to a head one night when we were coming back to the common room after another snogging session. I know now that it was Harry under his invisibility cloak who was the catalyst for the argument we then had, but at the time it seemed like more of Dean's mollycoddling of me. My temper was smouldering that day anyway, as it did often when I was with Dean and which he seldom deserved, and the push towards the portrait hole was enough to ignite it.

'Don't push me, please, Dean. You're always doing that; I can get through perfectly well on my own …'

He turned and glared at me, irritated of course at the unfounded assumption.

'What do you mean? I didn't push you!'

'You did! And I hate the way you always assume I can't do anything for myself.'

'I just try to be a gentleman, Ginny. It's not an insult to want to cherish someone.'

'Well I feel smothered, Dean, not cherished. No! Don't touch me!' I said, pulling away as he tried to reach out to me. 'I just can't take this anymore. I can't be a piece of china for you to look after, and I can't deal with being told who I can be friends with either.'

'If you mean Harry …'

'I like how your mind goes straight to him,' I shrieked, ignoring the fact that we never argued over any of my other friends. 'I've known him longer than I've known you and I refuse to stop being friends just because you're jealous.'

In retrospect I think I dragged Harry's name into it because I knew it would provide the catalyst I needed to make Dean explode, but at the time Dean took it as more proof that I was interested in him.

'Fine! Why don't you just go running off to him then.'

'Grow up, Dean. This isn't about Harry; it's about you never accepting that I am a big girl and can look after myself.'

'You are the most mental chick I've ever met!' He was practically shouting at me by now and I'm sure he didn't mean what he said next but I jumped on it. 'If that's the way you feel then I don't think there's much point in staying together.'

'No I don't think there is either. Goodbye Dean.'

Finally I had my wish; I had broken up with Dean. I felt a little guilty as I watched him stalk away because I'm pretty sure he thought it was just one of our fights and that we'd make up again soon enough, but I had finally had enough. I needed space and freedom and Dean gave me neither. I didn't handle the break up as elegantly as I could have or as well as Dean deserved and I still regret that a little. It was lucky for me that Dean was such a decent person that he didn't hold it against me.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 38: Sectumsempra.

So, there it was; Dean and I had broken up. I was so relieved about it that it seemed very ungracious almost. Dean did not deserve the way I treated him but I just couldn't deny to myself anymore that I couldn't stand being treated like a delicate piece of china. He took it well enough but I could see he didn't really understand why I was so annoyed. I mean 'you're too protective and helpful' probably seemed like a really odd reason. But it just got too much for me.

It wasn't even about Harry, not really. Dean's harping on about it was beginning to give me suspicions that he actually was interested in me, but I was still very much in denial about it. Every time the idea cropped up I decided that it must be just because we were much better friends now and Dean was just crazy jealous. Having been together on the quidditch team all year Harry and I had been spending more time together and with Ron and Hermione. We had a firm comfortable friendship and we got on so well I assumed that the way he was responding to me was based more on our newly grown true friendship than about any romantic feelings.

Yes, since we've all seen Harry's biography and since we've all realised that he had feelings for me at this time we must also assume that I was about as completely idiotically blind and oblivious as my dear brother. Maybe I had been too hard on him; maybe this was a Weasley family trait. But when it came to the break up with Dean I didn't have 'OMG I can date Harry now' in my mind at all. Instead, I was just profoundly relieved to be out of that relationship. I had felt stifled and held back by him, so it was a wonderful feeling to be free again. I determined that I wasn't going to go out with anyone else right then. Being my own person was far too exciting.

It makes me giggle when I read Harry's account of this time because he was apparently very concerned with the idea that I was going to be 'snapped up' by some other guy. Clearly he didn't have the same understanding of how 'not me' I had been with Dean and how I just wanted time by myself to be me. Besides, there were my OWLs to study for. Without a boyfriend to distract me my study improved significantly, so it was a happy Ginny who spent the next little while single.

Now, since I was so happily single and since I was sure Harry liked me only as a friend I assumed that the time we spent together at quidditch practice and walking to and from practices and games together and the fun we had was due to him making sure I wasn't sad or lonely after breaking up with Dean. After all, while I didn't need cheering up Harry wasn't to know that. I felt like I was finally becoming 'one of the guys' with him, one of that coveted inner circle with Ron and Hermione. And since I was happy single and since I knew friendship was all I could expect from Harry I was perfectly happy with that.

I was finally where my 11 year old self wanted to be: great friends with Harry. I knew all his quirks. I knew he could get really angry for stupid reasons, I knew he was a bit up himself over some things, and I knew that a bit of sass and a bit of gumption could face him down. He wasn't that perfect cut out hero figure I'd dreamed of in my youth, and he did have those glaring faults but over all he was so much fun to be with that I wondered why as a young girl I had imagined such a plastic person when the real thing was so much better.

Anyway, just a few days before our most crucial match of the year, the one against Ravenclaw that we had to win by a huge margin to gain the quidditch cup, something terrible happened. Now before we go any further I have to say here that I do not approve of what Harry did. I didn't approve then and I don't approve now. However, I also don't approve of what Malfoy was trying to do so I can see why Harry did it. But that's kind of getting ahead of myself yet again.

The terrible thing that happened was that Draco Malfoy was nearly murdered in a bathroom by Harry. Now, I know that some of you who have read Harry's version of this are saying 'oh, but it was self defence, he had to do it' etc etc, and that's true to an extent but he cast an unknown curse at another student without thinking through the consequences and if Malfoy had died that day I'm sure Harry would have been devastated. I mean he hated the guy but I'm absolutely certain he'd never want him dead.

For myself, I can say that at the time the sight of Harry tearing through the common room wild eyed was terrifying. He was sopping wet and covered in blood as well. I thought he'd been hurt. I half stood up and said 'Harry – what's …?' but I'm sure he didn't hear me. He looked like a man on a mission and his mission seemed to be getting back out the door as fast as he could. Gossip was rife in Gryffindor tower, of course, with speculation about what had happened rampant. Nothing any of them had figured out came even close though.

It wasn't long before the news of what really happened seeped down to us, and I was awash with shock. I knew that Harry had disliked Malfoy of course. One couldn't spend as much time with him as I did and not be aware of that. But that Harry would actually try to murder him seemed so out of character that I refused to believe it for ages. It wasn't until I saw McGonagall looking for Harry in the common room, with a grim face and none of the glint that usually accompanied her fierceness, that I truly accepted it was real.

I was so saddened by it. That Harry would do something like this really diminished him in my mind, and I was unsure why I was so upset that he had been so bad. I told myself that if it had been any of them: Ron, Hermione, Fred George I would have been as disappointed. And it's true that to an extent I would have been saddened by them doing something like that. But I don't think I would have been so bitterly disappointed as I was that day. I felt personally winded and wounded by hearing that about someone I respected so much.

When I look back I know it was because ever since that experience in the Chamber of Secrets that had bound us together I had held a deep respect for Harry's nobleness of purpose. What we shared had given us an insight into each other that no-one else could gain, and I had felt that I knew him to his core and that at that core was a really good person who valued all human life. And now it looked like he had maliciously tried to murder someone just because he disliked him. It hurt me to realise that I didn't know Harry as well as I thought I did.

Then he came back and told me, Ron and Hermione what had happened. He was very forthright about it and, for some reason that I wasn't willing to delve into right then, the knowledge that he hadn't _meant_ to kill Malfoy but had rather been very reckless and very stupid cheered me up considerably.

Hermione lost no time in telling him how rotten he had been and how the Half Blood Prince was clearly evil. Harry being Harry, and having about as good a temper as I do when he's properly roused, lashed back.

'Will you stop harping on about the book! The Prince only copied it out! It's not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used against him!'

Hermione of course couldn't let it drop. Miss perfecter-than-perfect had to keep having a go at him. Couldn't she see that he was really upset? She was really getting up my nose that day actually. I really like Hermione, but she just doesn't have the best sense of timing for her lectures. Anyway she finally came out with something that really got my goat and I had to hit back. Harry looked so diminished already and she was hounding him.

' – gotten a reputation for Potions brilliance you don't deserve.,' she spat out in a really nasty voice.

'Give it a rest, Hermione! By the sound of it Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable curse, you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!'

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry look up, a small smile trying to break out on his face. Vaguely I wondered why but pushed it out of my mind as I was so incensed with Hermione.

'Well, of course I'm glad Harry wasn't cursed!' She said in a hurt voice. 'But you can't call that Sectumsempra spell good, Ginny, look where it's landed him! And I'd have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the match –'

That did it. As if she gave a stuff about quidditch. She was just obsessed with proving herself right and poor Harry wrong. I'm afraid my temper really got the best of me once again.

'Oh, don't start acting as though you understand quidditch, you'll only embarrass yourself.'

Yes, it was mean, yes I did it to upset Hermione and yes it worked. The two of us were glaring daggers at each other, and neither of the boys knew exactly where to look. Once again I thought I saw a tiny smile light around Harry's lips as he looked at me. Despite my sensible idea that I wanted to remain single to study for my OWLs I was beginning to wonder what it might be like to have Harry as a boyfriend. I chucked the idea out every time I had it because I knew has wasn't keen, but I was not unreceptive to the idea of the right guy as a new boyfriend.

However I refused to think about that right then and anyway something Hermione said did hit a nerve; probably why I lashed out at her I'd say. We _were_ in a bad place on the quidditch front. Harry was in detention every Saturday for the rest of the year because of his stupidity. Given the circumstances he'd gotten off really lightly, but it did mean that this Saturday I was going to be in Harry's shoes on the quidditch pitch. And Hermione was right, our chances which were poor to begin with (winning by a 300+ plus margin was always going to be a huge ask) and now with our Captain out of play contention things looked pretty bad. Yes, I was a good seeker, but I knew I was nowhere near as good as Harry.

I knew I had very little hope of actually pulling this one out of the bag, and I knew it must be driving poor Harry nuts to know that he had brought this on himself. I was determined, then and there, to make a go of it if I could. I would damn well win this thing for Harry if it was humanly possible. Once again I told myself that even if he didn't think of me as more than a good mate I could still put forth the effort, and maybe if I did manage it I could possibly see if he might maybe want to do something alone with me sometime. A Hogsmeade weekend or something. Just as good mates of course, just as thanks for helping us win. I was resigned to not having Harry as my boyfriend, and I was damn well going to make the very most of being his friend.

Yes, yes. You can see me flip-flop wavering on this issue. And to tell the truth I went back and forth on it over the days and weeks after I broke up with Dean. At times I hoped he liked me, at other times I thought he didn't and we'd just be friends, at others I was sure I didn't like him and still others I thought any feelings I had very left over baby girl crush feelings and not exactly 'real'. So I kept telling myself I didn't like him 'that way' and that it was best if we just stayed friends. Though, deep down inside me some tiny core thrilled to the idea of winning that match, just to see what might happen. Oh yes, admit it or not, that match was very important to me. I had in a way pinned my hopes on it. If we won the cup I felt like that might just give me the chance to get that little bit closer to Harry … just as a friend of course.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 39: Sunlit days

We had done it. The Quidditch Cup was Gryffindor's. I was incomprehensible with relief that I hadn't let the team down, or more to the point that I hadn't let _Harry_ down. I know I've been saying all along that I was 'over him' and that I was getting on with my life and really pleased to have a good, easy friendship with him.

But in truth, when I got right down to the bottom of things I knew I still had feelings for Harry. Oh I gave myself all the usual palaver about being friends and that was enough for me and all that other bollocks. But the truth was I revelled in the time we spent together, I had flutters in my stomach those days he seemed to seek me out. I was funny, smart and sarcastic at him every time he talked to me and we were comfortable with each other finally, very comfortable.

I knew friendship was all I could expect from him, knew it without a shadow of a doubt because he was so distant from me. Well, not distant exactly, like I said he seemed to seek me out a lot of the time, often walking back after quidditch with me rather than Ron for example. Of course that could be because Ron was often taken up with Hermione, who he still insisted he was 'just friends' with. Yeah right. Harry and I shared more than one eye rolling session over that little gem. We joked about forming the mutual-eye rolling society and try to force the two of them together, but we never got around to it. Yes I do recognise the irony here; there I was rolling my eyes about Ron's 'friendship' with Hermione with Harry who was interested in me when I myself was in the same sort of denial as Ron.

But even with all the things we shared Harry was distant emotionally from me. We were close in that we spent time together and talked and were friend-ish, but he certainly didn't have the same spontaneity with me that he with Ron and Hermione. So I knew that I was going to stay 'just' his friend, and I told myself that would be enough for me, all I really wanted in fact. In truth I know now that Harry was emotionally distant because he thought I wasn't interested in him anymore. When you think about it, the whole darn lot of us were really daft that year.

But I was once again obsessed with thinking about Harry and just how close a friend he thought I was. In the lead up to the big game for the Quidditch Cup there had been many small moments between us for me to obsess over. For example, I spent hours poring over the memory of my fight with Hermione and the look in Harry's eyes as I stood up for him. My heart would occasionally flutter hopefully before I firmly pushed it back where it belonged and told it in no uncertain terms that Harry Potter wasn't interested in me and to stop being such a pain in the behind. Then I'd remind it that we were friends and to just leave anything romantic out of it, thank you very much. I was, truthfully, a very confused young lady.

My sensible stance towards him, however, wasn't enough to stop me from lifting my head up hopefully when we came into the Gryffindor common room after winning the Quidditch Cup. I felt so sorry for Harry that he wasn't able to be with us for that match. Of course he deserved punishment, anyone with half a brain knew that he shouldn't have used that spell, but … Snape was a prize git and was really enjoying rubbing Harry's nose in the fact that he couldn't play. I was glad that I was able to do it for him, win the cup and hopefully make him proud, but … but I knew it would only be a hollow victory for Harry. He captained the team to the Quidditch Cup but wasn't even able to be at the pitch to see it happen. He must be so devastated right about now.

I determined, no matter what, to be with him and help him through it, whatever he needed. That's what a friend would do, right? Yeah stop smirking at me; I know I was just trying to get close to him in that victorious hour. But back then I was trying to pretend that I was interested in helping him as a friend. Anyway, we got into the common room and it was obvious he wasn't back yet. That foul evil git of a teacher had kept Harry at detention for hours, probably just to be sure he missed the match. Bastard. Ah well, at least I would be able to see Harry as soon as he came in.

We got a great party going. The whole house was beside themselves of course because we'd thought our chances were sunk. I was pounded on my back, congratulated and given far more than my share of butterbeer and cauldron cakes. But through it all I kept my eyes on the portrait hole. Once or twice I noticed Hermione's eyes on me with a knowing smile and I grimaced. Surely I wasn't that obvious? Surely? I had been keen sometimes to ask her opinion but I didn't want to make a goof out of myself after I had told her I'd given up on Harry and especially since I knew he wasn't interested at all. I didn't want to see her pitying eyes when she told me that he didn't see me that way.

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted. A roar leapt up around me, and my heart bounded sickeningly within me as I looked up. I saw a messy black head coming through the portrait hole and as he straightened up I melted. I couldn't truly deny my feelings any longer; I was absolutely mad about him. The way my heart did flip-flops as he stared around uncertainly wasn't the way a friend would feel. I had to face up to it even if he didn't return my feelings.

He had a small grin on his face, kind of unsure and yet happy too. His green eyes looked bright as they searched around the room. Ron called something out to him that I didn't hear and all of a sudden I wanted to be in on it; I wanted to be one of the friends who was there to share in the triumph with him. And dammit, if I could I wanted to be his girlfriend. Shouldn't a Gryffindor be brave, I told myself. Go now … just go to him and give him that hug that he deserves. After all, you're the one who pulled this off for him. He'll be pleased to see you. Work on the girlfriend thing later.

His eyes lit on mine and in that moment, having peeled off the blinders keeping me from properly acknowledging my own feelings, I saw something in his face that made me light up with delight. Merlin, I thought. Oh Merlin, he likes you too! His eyes were tender yet wary as they looked in my direction and I just ran to him. I threw my arms around him, he caught me in his and then we kissed. He swears he kissed me but I know it was a mutual thing. It was nothing like I imagined it either. None of the kisses I'd shared with Michael or Dean compared to this. And that wasn't just because there were like 50 people there with us; in that moment none of them existed. It was glorious and it was just as good as I'd hoped all those years ago when I had my little girl crush. Only this was real, this was a real person not a cardboard hero and I actually knew him and understood him. I had no illusions left that he was perfect but his flaws just made his good points seem more vivid to me and I loved every one of them.

The kiss seemed to last for ever, but in reality couldn't have been more than a minute or so. Hermione was still beaming smugly at us and Ron was looking like a startled rabbit when we came up for air. I grinned up at Harry and he smiled at me then looked away for a moment. I turned to see where he was looking in just enough time to notice Ron shrug his shoulder at him. Irritated though I was that Harry felt he needed Ron's go ahead, I was too happy to smite him for it right then. So when he looked at me again and indicated that we should leave the room I was all too willing to oblige. The catcalls in the room were getting interesting to say the least. While we kissed, those people may not have existed but they did exist now and were making themselves obnoxiously well noticed.

We scrambled out of the portrait hole together with the yells following in our wake. In some ways I was really interested to know what was said after we left. But, I reminded myself, that's what Hermione was really good at: relaying important girl information when you'd missed it. I knew I could count on her rundown afterwards, so I dismissed it from my thoughts and turned to the only important person in my life right then.

In the meantime, Harry and I had paused outside the hole wondering where to go. He still had hold of my hand as if he couldn't quite believe it was real. I knew the feeling.

'Well, they certainly enjoyed that, didn't they?' I asked, to break the silence.

He gave a shout of laughter. 'Yeah, well there were one or two who may not have been as happy.' I grimaced as I thought about the look I'd caught on Dean's face: he was certainly not at all happy about the state of affairs. Harry sensed what I was feeling and said 'but you know what? Let them have their fun. I have you and that's all that matters.'

I snorted, and said 'don't go getting all sentimental on me, Harry,' even though I was feeling all shivery inside at those words.

He looked a little hurt and tried to pull away and I reached up and kissed him again.

'You can't believe how long I've wanted to do that' I said against his lips. He grinned.

'Yeah I would' he said. 'Since you were 11.' He danced out of the way of the playful smack I aimed at him, laughing.

'Prat!' I smiled at him. 'You know what I mean. I've wanted to do that since I finally grew up and saw you as a real person and not as 'just' a hero, but I didn't admit it to myself.'

We had started walking again while we talked and were almost out the main doors to the grounds. He stopped there and slid a hand into my hair. My breath caught in my throat as I looked into his eyes. I wasn't ready for the intensity of the emotion I was feeling. His eyes, so close to mine, so warm and tender, just seared into me and I was lost again. This kiss lasted longer and was more tender. His hand clenched further into my hair and the other one was firm against my back. My arms wound tightly around his neck and I just didn't want to be parted from him again. This was perfection. Amidst all the horrors of the war going on around us, he was a bright spot in my life and I was finally able to admit that to myself.

We made the most of the rest of that day, walking around the grounds and talking of everything and nothing. He was fascinated by my hair and constantly wound it around his finger and I was lost in his eyes, forever staring into them and tracing his emotions there. He has amazingly expressive eyes; it's impossible to look into them and not see exactly how he's feeling. Well, it's impossible for me anyway. It's possible, I guess, that someone else could be unmoved by what they see there, but I drown in his eyes. His face may seem impassive at times, I think because of those relatives of his, but his eyes show the true depths of his emotions.

Even then, even that day I felt raw with the pain and horror that he'd been through. He didn't say much about his life outside our world (he isn't the most open of people, even now) but what he did say broke my heart, and his eyes … I would lie with my head in his lap staring up at him and he would look at me with those eyes and curl my hair in his fingers and just talk. Every so often he'd bend down to kiss me as if something compelled him to it. I felt the same way, often reaching up to him just to assure myself that this was real. But at the same time it felt like we'd been 'us' forever.

The day was beautiful and it was made more beautiful just by being with him. And yes, before you gag I _did_ overdose on romance that day. What did you expect? That was the single most romantic moment of my entire life to date. Of course I remember it soppily through rose-tinted glasses. Besides, I used to be that 11 year old hopelessly dramatic romantic. You're lucky I didn't swoon and sigh and sob out my adoration in long flowery phrases like Dean had used while writing to me.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 40: Shining Moments

Somehow we dragged ourselves back in to the castle. I made him go to the Great Hall to eat since he'd missed lunch and the celebratory feast in the Common Room. Poor lad looked terrified by having to go in there with me. I guess he'd had a long history of being stared at while entering the Great Hall and it was always for bad reasons; I tried to reassure him with a look that this wasn't bad … this was possibly the best thing ever.

I clasped his hand tightly and pulled him in with me. The whispers that had followed us out of the Gryffindor Common Room were nothing on the ones that followed us into the Hall. Pansy Parkinson was staring open mouthed at us and all along the tables people were rising slightly to see if we were holding hands. It was kind of annoying but also kind of cool. Harry was bright red but he fixed his eyes on Ron and Hermione and just made his way to them. We sat together of course and eventually people gave up staring quite so openly and he was able to eat something.

As for me, I was behaving almost like one of those crazy girls who uses their boyfriend as a trophy. Wait, before you go shouting 'I knew it! I knew she was just with him for the fame!' listen to me for a few minutes. I was just so ridiculously in love and excited to be with him I wanted to show it off to the world. I wanted to wave our hands over our heads and show everyone 'yes I'm going out with Harry Potter!' I was completely smitten and wanted to shout it to the world. I didn't of course because I knew deep down that would embarrass the hell out of him, and I would never do that to him in a million years. Poor thing got too much attention as it was without me adding to it. But that didn't stop the goofy grin I had plastered to my face. I mean, can you blame me? This was Harry, my dream guy, and he was real and solid and a thousand times better in the flesh than he had ever been in dreams.

When we got back to the common room we were greeted with good natured cheers and jeers again. I waggled my eyebrows at Hermione and she took the hint immediately, and Harry went to sit with Ron I guess to have the good old Weasley brother interrogation about his intentions. Ron's expression was certainly very … intense and somewhat intimidating. I gave Harry what I hoped was a perky smile and raced upstairs with Hermione. I couldn't wait to give and get the good old girly rundown of events.

'So, tell me all about it' she said with an amused and yet eager grin.

'Oh, it was wonderful' I sighed. I was deeply into the sighing thing at this stage. I managed, barely, to avoid Harry seeing it when I was around him but I figured with Hermione I could indulge my girly desire to sigh as much as I liked. She certainly wasn't going to tell.

'So you're happy then?' she teased me gently.

'Ecstatic! It was … well, better than fantasy any day.'

'Well, I'm pleased. It's about time. The way the two of you have been dancing around each other for weeks has been amusing but insanely frustrating as well.'

'Look who's talking!' She had the grace to blush, and I thought about what she'd said, then I added 'Wait! What do you mean weeks?'

Hermione sniggered at my petulant expression.

'He's been gaga since I think about when he and Ron caught you and Dean snogging. At least that's when he started looking at you a lot more than he used to.'

'No! He can't have been. I'd have noticed.' I complained.

'No you wouldn't' she said with a soft smile playing around her lips. 'You were too busy snogging Dean and pretending you didn't like Harry any more.'

'I never pretended I didn't like him!' I was outraged.

She merely raised one eyebrow and I backed down … a little.

'I wasn't pretending. I was just … trying my best to make it true. Oh, you know what I mean' I added as she just smirked at me. 'I was with Dean, I really liked him and I didn't think it was right to be hung up on some guy who didn't want me when I had a perfectly good one in front of me.'

'I know' she said. 'I was just teasing you really. Anyway, I'm really pleased you and Harry are together. I think you're exactly what he needs.'

I blushed. I could feel it speeding its way up to my face from my chest. My blushes were always spectacular and embarrassing, and this was no exception. I mean this sort of thing was what I was longing to hear, but it was incredibly embarrassing as well.

'What do you mean?' I asked, trying with all my might to stop the flow of that damn red streak and slowly but surely failing miserably.

'I mean he gets in incredible funks and he can be so brutally angry and yet you can just face him down. I don't like the tension, I really don't, but it never phases you.'

I stared at her incredulously. Phase me? No way. I thrived on it.

'Well, if you back down it just encourages that behaviour' I giggled. 'Besides he doesn't get that bad with me.'

'I know' said Hermione. 'And it's not just that you face him down; you seem to be able to defuse him without having to shout. He's so much more chilled out around you. Like I said, I think he needs that. You're so much like him and so I think he knows he can't get away with the same bollocks he tries with me and Ron.'

As interesting as this was, there was something I wanted to know more. Insatiably curious I just had to know what had been said as Harry and I left the Common Room.

'Oh, well …' Hermione snorted. 'There was plenty of reaction.'

'I noticed' I said wryly.

'Dean didn't look happy, and he snuck away with Seamus pretty quickly after you guys left.'

'I know. I felt so bad for him, but … you know. We broke up, and … and it's Harry.' I sighed again.

'I know' she smiled. 'And I'm sure that when Dean really thinks about it, he'll understand. You guys just … work.'

'I know' I grinned and she threw a pillow at me.

'And you're modest too.' I stuck my tongue out at her.

'But, you know what was really funny? The Romildites. They were livid that he was 'taken' finally.'

'Strike one against the popular clique. Go me!' I crowed.

Hermione grinned and said seriously 'Yeah, but on the whole the response was great.'

'Ron?' I asked finally.

'Oh, well, you know Ron. He was stunned, and enraged and happy and accepting.'

'Typical!' I giggled at the memory of the look on Ron's face as he got ready to talk to Harry. Poor Harry was likely being put through the big brotherly ringer.

'Oh, should we go back down? Allow the maximum for gossip for the day?'

'I think so. I think Ron's had long enough to interrogate your boyfriend.'

I smiled happily. My boyfriend. Yes, I liked the sound of that.

When we got down to the common room I noticed from the way he was sitting that Harry was very uncomfortable while talking to Ron. A feeling of mischief stole over me and I just had to take the opportunity to rile Ron up a little. I glanced at Hermione and saw that she could tell what I was about to do. She grinned, egging me on a little. I slipped up behind Harry, slid my arms around his neck, leaned down and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. As expected he jumped, but smiled and pulled me round to sit next to him. Ron, meanwhile, was glaring at us.

'You … stop that' he was almost apoplectic. 'Someone might see.'

I laughed and said 'That's the point Ron. I want everyone to see. I want people to know I'm the happiest person who ever lived. And that this' I waved Harry's hand at Ron, indicating our togetherness 'Is the reason why.'

He spluttered and grimaced but had nothing to come back with.

'Well, anyway, I've just been telling lover-boy here, that if he does anything to upset you he's in big trouble.'

I rolled my eyes at him and said 'Ron, for the last time, I'm plenty big enough to look after myself. Try not to scare poor Harry too much, there's a good boy.'

I kissed Harry enthusiastically for emphasis, causing Ron to squirm in embarrassment.

The next few weeks were some of the greatest of my life. Harry was newly mellow and I enjoyed the fruits of that. We spent as much time as we could alone together, both knowing instinctively I think that this was a bright patch in a dark time and couldn't last. Jeepers! Look at me, I'm getting all morose and morbid again. This was the greatest time of my life and there wasn't really a shadow over it … not really.

Either way, Harry and I spent hours together, snogging each other's brains out and talking about everything under the sun. Harry wasn't (and still isn't) the most open person about his emotions but he opened up to me a lot more in those days. Things that Hermione and I had gleaned from the snippets he had let fall he now disclosed more openly and the train wreck that was his early life was astonishing.

It amazes me to this day that Harry isn't more screwed up than he is. I don't mean to say it hasn't left scars on him; it has. There are huge elements of his personality that can be directly linked back to those … bastards he lived with all those years. But he is, under it all, a fundamentally good person. He loves generously and without abandon even though he never knew love in that house. He isn't embittered by his experiences but rather stronger for them. He isn't brittle as you might expect someone coming from that environment to be, but is instead very resilient. He has his moments of course, and his daft guilt complex is one and his tendency to anger another, but overall he is remarkably untouched. And I found out those things as we whiled away the time together over those few weeks.

Once again I'd find myself lost in those eyes, with his hands scooting through my hair just listening to him talk and telling him about life with the Weasleys. He was as fascinated by my youth as I was by his, and we learned so much about each other during that time. I could stay that way for hours, but unfortunately it was my OWL year and the sadistic Professor Snape seemed to take pleasure in keeping us as far apart as he could.

I swear those detentions of Harry's stretched by half an hour each Saturday. And as that was always the only day we could truly spend together I resented it immensely, threatening to curse everyone under the sun, first and foremost of them being Snape who was being so bloody obnoxiously mean to Harry. Harry always laughed and told me I'd better not try to bat bogey Snape or we'd both be in detention. He was right of course. Snape would have so much fun having Harry in detention for hours on Saturday morning then me on Saturday afternoon.

So, while I grumbled, I was still very careful what I said where anyone could hear me. Those bloody Slytherins would have been excited to find any reason to rat us out to Snape. They had never forgiven me for winning the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor and they were really annoyed, especially those in Harry's year, that we were happy together. Apparently if Harry wasn't suffering the Slytherins weren't having any fun. Well, no, let's be fair. _Some_ Slytherins are fine. But the vocal ones, the ones who had been in Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad last year, were very clear on hating me and Harry. Being disliked was a new experience for me, but to be honest I didn't care too much since being with Harry and disliked was a thousand times better than being without him and adored by others.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 41: Dumbledore

So for a few weeks things were wonderful between Harry and me. We stayed together as much as we could and Harry was such a different person. He was so relaxed, so at ease with himself and the world. I rejoiced in being with him. But then all of a sudden a huge shadow was cast over the time we had together. One night while I was studying Harry had been called up to Dumbledore's office. Whatever he was up to with Dumbledore was very hush-hush and cloak and dagger and I never really knew much about it, not for want of trying though.

I'm just going to take a small moment here to say something about Harry and his secret keeping. I knew, of course, that there was something going on with him, Ron and Hermione. They would be in these weird little huddles and would stop talking when I came into the common room or wherever they happened to be. I wasn't pleased of course. Who wants their boyfriend, brother and best friend all keeping a secret from them? I could tell it wasn't something sweet like a birthday surprise because they always looked so serious when they did it, and it bugged and worried me quite a bit. I know now, of course, that Dumbledore had bound them all to secrecy and they couldn't tell me but at the time I felt hurt and left out. It was the one thing that Harry and I didn't really share with each other.

Of course, as Harry's girlfriend I was more involved and more aware of the things that were going on in his life than I had been before we got together. I did ask him a few times when we were alone together about what it was all about. He would always get restless and uncomfortable but he was very frank about the fact that he had lessons with Dumbledore, that he had something to do and that Dumbledore had made him promise only to talk about it with Ron and Hermione. I always dropped it because I could see that he wanted to tell me but that he felt like he couldn't because of his promise. I still fumed though, when I allowed myself to think about it. It seemed that Dumbledore didn't trust me at all and that bugged me more than a little. I guessed my run-in with Tom Riddle and his diary all those years ago was still being held against me and the idea made me very sad.

Anyway, that night I was wrestling with some particularly difficult notes when Hermione came flying into the library in a right state.

'Hey, Hermione. What's --?'

'You've got to come,' she gasped out.

'What? What's the matter? Hermione, you're scaring me.'

She just shook her head, still out of breath, and beckoned me to follow her. I gathered my things as quickly as I could with shaking fingers and stumbled out of the library after her. I was imaging all sorts of horrors: Harry or Ron dead or at least badly injured. My confusion and fear must have shown on my face because she gave me a quick hug and explained really quickly what was going on. Harry, it seemed, was out somewhere with Dumbledore and was convinced that there would be an attack on the school while they were gone.

'Attack? But who -- ?'

Hermione rolled her eyes and said 'he thinks Malfoy's going to do something today. He heard someone celebrating in the Room of Requirement or something and he thinks it was Malfoy.'

'OK, fine. But why did you have to give me a heart attack over it?'

'Well, he gave Ron his map, you know the one that shows everyone in the castle, and we can't see Malfoy on it at all.'

I was getting impatient now. 'So? Harry's been obsessing over that thing for months. What makes tonight different?'

'I don't know. But you didn't see him; he looked really sure this time. It was different, and with Dumbledore gone we've agreed to keep an eye on things.'

I was still unconvinced and she just pulled on my arm. 'Oh come on. If he's wrong, what does it hurt? And if he's right we need to be ready.'

Seeing the sense in this I went along with her. I was sure there must be more to this story than I was being told. I had my suspicions about those late night lessons with Dumbledore, and I was sure that whatever they were up to must be dangerous. I was still a little resentful over not getting the full story but I had enough faith in Harry that once I committed to helping him in this I didn't question it – at least not out loud.

We got back to the common room, or more to the point to the portrait outside the common room where Ron, Neville and Luna were waiting for us. I raised my brow at Hermione.

'The DA galleons' she explained. 'No-one else noticed them, and I went to get you because I knew you'd want to be involved.' I blushed at both my earlier reluctance and over the fact that I no longer paid attention to the galleons that had once called me to the DA meetings. It had been less than one year, but we had all sunk back into some kind of complacence over fighting back. It really gave me a wake up and made me realise I needed to dig in and do my part against the things that we did know were going on outside the safe walls of Hogwarts. If staking out Malfoy would help I would stake out Malfoy.

Hermione shared out mouthfuls of the potion Harry had won from Slughorn earlier in the year. Seeing that made me shiver; if Harry was giving out his precious potion then it really must be serious. I could see why Hermione had been so panicked when she had come to find me. Ron, Neville and I went up to stake out the Room of Requirement and Hermione and Luna went off to Snape's office to keep an eye on him. Harry had implicated him in the plan somehow and while I really didn't understand what he had to do with anything I assumed it was important.

Staking out the Room of Requirement was bloody boring if you ask me. We sat for about an hour just staring at the wall where the doorway should appear and that's not exactly the world's most fun job. I was just thinking longingly of my homework (my _homework_! Things must be getting bad if I wanted to be studying) when the door suddenly appeared. Instantly alert we all pointed our wands at it and so saw when Draco Malfoy came out clutching that revolting hand of his; I've seen him with it before and it's just so gross. But as fast as we were with the wands we weren't fast enough. He threw something on the floor and the whole area went instantly pitch black.

'Lumos' I screamed, and could hear Neville and Ron echoing that spell, but nothing. In desperation I tried every possible illumination spell I could think of but not one of them could make a dent in that darkness. My heart was beating really fast now, and it was obvious that Harry had been right and if he was right about Malfoy planning something then what else was he right about, and what had he not told me?

I stopped, took a deep breath and made sure I wasn't panicking then I located Neville's voice and began groping my way towards him. I hit something solid and whispered 'Neville?' It shames me to admit it but I was quite scared that night; as well as the sounds of Neville and Ron's voices I could also hear the grunts and harsh mutterings of several other people. It chilled me to think what types Malfoy could have been bringing into the school, so I whispered in an attempt not to call attention to myself while I couldn't see anything. Thankfully it was Neville and he was whispering too, clearly feeling the same way I was about the situation. We eventually located Ron and, holding on to each other, got ourselves out of the dark patch and back thankfully into the well-lit hallway. I took a steadying breath and looked around. There was no-one else in sight so that meant that the Death Eaters (I was sure that was who they were) were loose in the castle somewhere.

We moved frantically towards the stairs and I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I recognised some members of the Order of the Phoenix patrolling the area. We gasped out our tale and we all moved as a group. Lupin took charge and we all began to hunt for the Death Eaters in earnest. When we found them heading for the Astronomy Tower things began to get chaotic again. We were all duelling, throwing curses, dodging. I think if we hadn't had that potion Harry gave Ron we'd never have made it through.

While I was busy fighting with whatever Death Eater looked most menacing right then I saw out of the corner of my eye as Draco slipped away with some other Death Eaters creating a barrier behind them as they rushed off up the stairs. I couldn't pay much attention to him, but it did seem very weird. The Death Eaters obviously had some sort of plan and it involved being on the Astronomy Tower. In the confusion I barely noticed as Snape too scrambled past us and up the stairs with a bunch of death eaters. In fact the reason I noticed at all was because the group we were fighting diminished a lot and it was easier to see what was going on.

I could see Bill was down and was bleeding heavily but someone was with him patching him up while being another Order member was covering them There was still heavy fighting so I couldn't pay too much attention, but it seemed that even though we seemed overwhelmed we were being held off rather than full-on attacked and that puzzled and frightened me more than anything. I figured that whatever was happening on the Tower was the main event and we were merely inconveniences to be got rid of if necessary. I heard a terrible shout after what seemed like an hour but was more likely to be 10 or 15 minutes.

'It's over, time to go!'

Snape ran past along with Draco and several other Death Eaters following behind them. Those who were fighting us began to rush away after them as well and it was soon only a few flinging spells at us to keep us cornered I think. Harry finally raced past too, the look on his face terrifying. He looked murderous and heartbroken at the same time. I tried to call to him but he was too far away and didn't hear me. Shaking with fear and wondering what had happened to Dumbledore I was able to take a look around me finally and it was clear that it was over.

Some Order members gave chase, but once the fighting had come to an end I only had eyes for my brother. Bill was in a really bad way; as I got closer it became obvious that he had been savaged. His face was half ripped off and there were white glints of something I didn't want to think about.

'What? What is it?' I asked, and Tonks looked up from where she was tending him.

'It was a werewolf' she said, her mouth twisting in a grimace. She glanced up at Lupin who was looking at Bill, his face ashen. 'He was untransformed, but we don't know what that means for your brother. I think, right now, we need the hospital wing.'

I agreed and we all somehow got Bill up to the hospital and into the capable hands of Madame Pomphrey. I couldn't bear to watch him any longer and had a sudden aching need to see Harry, to figure out where he'd gone and to find out what that horrifying look on his face had meant as he tore after Snape and the others.

I descended out of the castle and once I got to the grounds it was obvious where I had to go. There were lights flickering around the base of the Astronomy Tower and voices coming from that direction. Instinctively I knew that would be where Harry would either be or come to. As I neared the site it became clear that there were a large number of panicked people milling around. Fear clutched at my heart at what it could all mean; there was a quality to the noise that spoke of terror and deep sadness and I picked up my pace, desperate to see what was going on.

The sight that met my eyes was heartbreaking. There, crumpled at the base of the Tower was Dumbledore, his eyes closed as if resting, but his limbs splayed out at such weird angles that I could tell instantly what was wrong. I felt the shock rush through me as I looked at it. I'm sure I stood there bound to the spot for several long seconds before I noticed that Harry was there too. He was kneeling by the body with a white and anguished face, and Hagrid was trying to pull him away.

Needing to get that look off his face if I could I went to him and took his hand, gently pulling him upwards and away from the sight. He stumbled blindly after me and the look of hatred and determination on his face slashed at me; he was pulsing with a burning energy and in order to try and deflect some of it I led him towards the hospital wing and Bill. I didn't know what else to do other than to take him to where his surrogate family was waiting. I was still numb with the pain of what had happened to Bill, so the desolation over Dumbledore had yet to set in. But I knew, with a fearful clarity, that Harry and I would have to break the news that the Wizarding World's greatest defender was dead.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 42: Despair.

The title says it all really doesn't it? This was more than just a silly little upset; this was more even than I felt after Sirius Black died. With Sirius I felt Harry's pain, and I felt sad too, of course. I'd liked Sirius a lot. He was fun, engaging, genuinely warm and he cared about people. But you know, I never felt like he was overseeing anything. I felt sad that he'd died, and Harry's obvious pain cut through me. I may have been denying my feelings for him back then but at the time the idea that Harry was so devastated upset me more than my own feelings.

But this time … this time _Dumbledore _was the one who had died. I had all the same things as last time: Harry's pain, my own sadness and added to that was the godawful overarching fear of what would come of our world now that the greatest defender had gone. I had expected him to last forever, and now here I was at his funeral. It was incomprehensible that he could have just died and insane to think that it was Snape who had done it. Harry's brutal anger towards _him_ was almost catching and I felt huge loathing towards the man who could do that to Dumbledore.

But at the funeral, while I should be thinking of the kindly but magnificent old wizard who had been the stalwart of our world for so very long, I was actually thinking about the green eyed boy-man beside me. Harry was sitting next to me, a coiled spring of pain and sorrow. I could tell he was going to do some bloody foolish thing because he felt responsible for this. My heart ached not just with the sadness and fear over Dumbledore but with the far more white-hot pain of letting Harry leave me behind.

I knew, as sure as I knew there were stars in the sky, that he was going to 'protect' me. I knew exactly what he was doing, and why he needed to do it. Oh no, I didn't like it, not at all. Anyone who thinks I was 'being the submissive woman' by not protesting just doesn't understand me, Harry or the way we are together. Tears dripped down my face for Dumbledore, of course, but they were for me, for Harry, for our innocence as well.

After the funeral was over, he turned to me and I saw the terrible truth in his eyes. This was it. I was not about to cry over him; after all I was pretty well cried out. And what's more I didn't want to cause him any more pain. I stared at him with the same intensity I'd felt when we had got together. Funny isn't it, how these things are the same no matter what the situation. I'd have thought getting together and breaking up would be so dissimilar as to create new feelings and expressions. But as I looked at him that day I was inexplicably proud of him, of the way he was, of who he was. I couldn't like someone as much as I liked him if he was unable to shoulder the tasks set for him. But I could still hope that I was wrong.

His voice was so soft I almost couldn't hear it. But it was devastating nonetheless.

'Ginny, listen … I can't be involved with you any more. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together.'

Oh Merlin, it really _was_ here. He really did just say those words. I looked at him, trying to process it, trying to actually believe the words were really coming out of his mouth.

'It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?'

'It's been like … like something out of someone else's life, these last few weeks with you. But I can't … we can't … I've got things to do alone now.'

The pain in his voice floored me, and the hesitant, stuttering way he said it clutched at my heart. I wanted to say something but couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't do that to him, not when it was as obviously painful for him as it was for me. So he carried on, and I just listened, taking in his reasoning along with his pain.

'Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He's already used you as bait once, and that's just because you're my best friend's sister. Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. He'll know, he'll find out. He'll try and get to me through you.'

Great lump of a bloody idiot! As if Voldemort wouldn't know we had been together anyway.

'What if I don't care' I spat out fiercely before I could think about it. I wanted to drag it back when I saw the look on his face, but it was too late.

'I care,' he said and the words etched into me with fire. He cared. He still cared about me, so he was letting me go. Crap. Him and his stupid noble streak. He carried on 'How do you think I'd feel if this was your funeral … and it was my fault …'

_Idiot boy_, I sighed internally to myself. _It wouldn't _be_ your fault_! Still, I knew him well enough not to argue. It was time to give him some reason to come back to me. He needed to know this was not a real 'ending,' no matter what he thought.

'I never really gave up on you. Not really' I said, with a tiny quiver in my voice. 'I always hoped … Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more - myself.'

And it did work, I thought sadly. It worked just enough to give me this terrible pain as he left me behind. I gave a twisted smile as I thought about it.

'Smart girl, that Hermione' he said, giving what I'm sure he thought was a smile but which was grotesque … almost like a grimace. 'I just wish I'd asked you sooner.' I scoffed internally at that. _Precious little asking went on Potter_, I thought, but was so close to another bout of tears I didn't want him to see that I didn't say it.

'We could've had ages … months … years maybe …'

_Oh God Harr__y; stop reminding me that you do still care! Please just let's pretend that we've 'grown apart' and that this is a real break up. Please_. But I didn't say it. Instead I said, almost laughing as I pushed my other thoughts away from me, 'But you've been too busy saving the wizarding world. Well … I can't say I'm surprised.'

And I wasn't. He was too damn noble to just revel in private bliss while around him something that he could do something about raged and destroyed. 'I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that's why I like you so much.' I was holding on to my 'carefree' dignity with the bare skin of my teeth, and it was clear he was too. He looked so white and drawn at my words and I could tell he was weakening, but then something firmed up in his eyes and I knew it was over. He looked at me for a few seconds, almost reached out to me, and then just … turned and walked away from me.

I stared after him and his pose, so dejected and desolate, made me yearn to run after him, to grab him and to make him see reason. But I knew that it had to be this way. I knew that there was no way for him to do what he had to do if I was there. I was underage still and still had the trace on me. Much as it pissed me off to be protected, I still knew that was the way he was. And it wasn't even protecting me really. It was his inability to see someone he really cared about in a dangerous situation; I knew as well as he did that he would never be able to focus fully on what he had to do if I was there.

Don't start at me about Ron and Hermione. They were different, really different. Plus, Ron and Hermione, as much as it annoyed me to admit it, were both of age and they both had lost the trace. I would be a target for all sorts of hideous reasons if I went too. The Death Eaters would know that I was there for one major reason only: that I was Harry's girl friend. Every other escapade he'd had Ron and Hermione had been there too. The only other one I was at was the Ministry and of course I wasn't the only 'extra' so I wasn't singled out. If I went this time I was the neon sign shouting 'come attack us, Harry has someone new here he doesn't want to lose' and I would also be the flashing sign of where we were and what we were doing. That damn trace was a pain in the butt.

But I wasn't about to cry over what was done. Harry was going as soon as he was of age. I'd known he would ever since Dumbledore died and I knew I couldn't go too. I was a liability if I was with them. I could be an asset if I stayed behind. So, dammit. This wasn't the bloody end, Harry bloody Potter; this was just a rest period. And I was damn well going to show him that.

All this positivity was all very well, but I couldn't sustain it and I knew it. I took hold of myself just long enough to get me up to my dormitory and then I broke down. I didn't cry; I'd gotten all my tears out at the funeral, allowing them to flow freely when I had something to actually cry about. A death was an 'OK' reason to leak, but this … this actually went deeper than tears.

I began to shake uncontrollably. No matter what I did I couldn't stop. My hands just would not stop trembling and I held them clasped in front of me as I contemplated for the first time what this really truly meant. Harry was going out there somewhere. He hadn't said it but I knew him and I knew what he would do. And I was faced with the awful possibility that he would never come back. It was all very well to think 'I'll give him a damn good reason to come home' but I knew that whatever he was doing it was going to be dangerous. And I knew that there was a good chance that it would kill him.

Again and again I went over that funeral scene in my head, but I knew deep down that it was the way it had to be. I still wished and hoped that he could have been able to stick with me. If he … if he didn't make it, I'd much rather have thought of him as 'my boyfriend' rather than as my ex. I burned with the idea that we could part forever and no-one would acknowledge my rights to grieve more than someone else. And I knew I would, if it happened. Whether together or apart he was the single most important person in my life, and I wanted to be able to acknowledge that. My shaking got worse and worse, until I had to curl myself on my bed and hold my arms close around me. I was not able to stand anymore and I couldn't face anyone.

Finally I got interrupted. Not by my dorm mates, which was a relief, but by one of my best friends … one of Harry's best friends. Hermione saw me and obviously knew what was going on. She gently gathered me up and stroked my hair until the shaking slowed a little. My hands were still thinking on their own, however. I sat and watched their shaking with a dispassionate eye until it became too much to bear and I tucked them under my arms to keep them out of my sight.

'He broke up with you, didn't he?' she finally asked softly.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak in case the terrible shaking began again.

'I could tell. He was so … odd when we just spoke to him. He's changed somehow. Moved into a new mode. He actually seems a little brittle and that's not something I'd have thought I'd say about Harry.'

Once again I nodded miserably.

'He needs me to let him do this. I know it. But … oh, Hermione it's so hard. Especially knowing that he doesn't really want to break up either. He's just being noble Harry.'

'Yeah' she sighed. 'He does get that way. But you're right; he is only just coping with all this by thinking that you're safe.'

'I know. _I_ know I'm no safer broken up than together, but he needs to be focused only on that one thing.'

'You're taking this very well' Hermione said.

'No, I'm not. Not really.' I held up my shaking hands as proof and she hugged me. 'But I know I can't just wallow in my misery. It wouldn't help me and it would make him feel terrible. Do I really truly want him to feel that way? I know he still cares, and I know I can't … I can't go with him' my voice broke at the end finally 'but I don't have to make it harder for either of us by weeping and wailing and gnashing my teeth. I have to let him go, Hermione. Hard as it is, I have to.'

All she could do in response was hold me closer until the tears I finally allowed myself to spill ran dry.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 43. The Interminable Train Ride.

I hardly slept at all that night, my despair was so palpable. But I looked better the next day than Harry did. At least my appearance didn't show exactly what my mental state was; I was pale and tired but the events of the last day could account for that, and I looked reasonably normal other than that. Harry, however, had huge bags under his eyes and his hair was far messier than I'd ever seen it, even in the days when he rescued me from the Chamber of Secrets. He looked at me awkwardly and slunk off out of the portrait hole before I was even really in the room.

I could see Ron looking between us and he seemed to be getting that belligerent cast to his face. To head off his wrath at Harry I quickly smiled at him as cheerfully as I could manage and wished him and Hermione both a happy morning. Ron still looked suspicious but of course any residual moroseness on my part could be put down to sadness from the funeral yesterday so he soon dropped it.

I dragged myself through the beginning of the day by avoiding, as casually as I could, any contact with Harry. It was easier on myself as well as on him, because the sight of him twisted at my heavy heart. It was only yesterday morning that he had held me as we headed to the funeral. Less than 24 hours since we last kissed, and the knowledge that he still felt those feelings was agony. He was denying himself, denying me, the comfort of being together because of his noble purpose. I was reasonably bitter about it, and I just preferred not to be confronted by him during that time.

I somehow managed to get onto the train home without seeing him and thankfully sank into the cushioned seats with a sigh of bliss. I was on my way home and with luck I wouldn't have to see Harry for more than a few seconds at the station. So you can imagine the horror I felt when Ron and Hermione came into my compartment followed by Harry. Before I could stop myself I hissed at Hermione

'What is _he_ doing here?'

Ron looked at me oddly. 'What do you mean?' he asked with a weird catch to his voice.

'I … nothing.' I glanced at Harry carefully, before turning and staring out the window.

'What's going on here?' Ron demanded. 'Did you do something to her, you prat?' he accused Harry.

'Ron, Ron calm down' Hermione had pushed herself in between him and Harry.

'No, I won't calm down' Ron roared. 'He … he's done something to my sister. Look at her, Hermione. _Look_ at her.'

They all turned and stared at me and I cringed away from the intense scrutiny. Harry looked horrified. Obviously I looked as bad as I felt finally and Harry was just noticing now. Hermione turned to Ron and insisted he back down. She ended up dragging him out into the corridor, presumably to prevent me from seeing or hearing what she was saying. But it was useless. Even with the door shut I could hear every word he yelled. It was quite impressive really, some of the things he came out with.

Through my pain in the situation I could still appreciate a good laugh and as I looked up with a slight spark in my eye at some of Ron's more colourful phrases I caught Harry looking at me and we couldn't help it. We began to snort, then to giggle and soon we were gasping out huge belly laughs. My tummy ached from the unaccustomed laughter and just as we wound down I was forced to pick it up again as I caught sight of the identical looks of shock and concern adorning the faces of Ron and Hermione who had stopped arguing and were staring at us through the door to the compartment.

Harry was gasping and holding his middle. It felt good to share something again even if it was that stupid. I caught his eye again and smiled naturally for the first time since we broke up. He looked relieved and smiled back. I still felt that roiling pain of not being with him any more, and I was still a little annoyed at him for being such a dense idiot, but it was good to know that we could still be on friendly terms. We could at least coexist even if we weren't together. In some ways knowing that he did still care and that he didn't want to break up any more than I did helped me. We still shared that bond and if he was going to be crazy and not admit it at least I knew we weren't truly finished. Just on hold for a while. And you know what? I could live with that.

Ron was still glowering when Hermione finally talked him down and they returned back into the compartment. The looks he shot at Harry made it clear that he wasn't happy with what he'd done and I decided I wasn't putting up with that crap from my brother. Yes, Harry hurt me but he did it for good reasons and it hurt him too. Finally, after enduring one too many under-breath observations on cad-like behaviour, I decided to do something about it.

'Ron, I want some food from the trolley. Would you come with me please?'

He looked up quickly and said 'sure, sis. Anything to make you happy' and cast yet another glare at Harry as we exited. I rolled my eyes, smiled at both Harry and Hermione and dragged Ron forcefully away from the compartment.

'You need to stop this Ron. It's not helping me and it's making him miserable'

'But he broke up with you …'

'For Harry-like reasons, you know. He's not happy any more than I am. But I'm not mad at him, at least not very, so why should you be?'

'Well … I … you're …'

'Stop it, already. This is hard enough … _you_ are making it worse for me. If you don't care about him, then think of me. Please!'

He stopped walking and turned to me. He could see the sincerity in my eyes and he just pulled me to him and hugged me.

'Can I at least bash his brains out if he doesn't come back to you when this is over?'

I laughed, and said 'Sure, but only if I can have a go too.'

Happy again, we walked down the corridor towards the sweets trolley and when we got back to the compartment I was relieved to see that Ron had stopped giving Harry the evil eye. Thank goodness, it was starting to get a little wearying. You know, looking back, this was a perfect opportunity to play the dramatic thing to the hilt. But I didn't take it. Instead I was all mature about it. I think, I could be wrong, but I think I might have been growing up.

Leaving Harry at the train station was worse than I had expected though. I had dreamt of this moment since we got together. I'd expected to be there holding his hand, making Mum's eyes bug out of her head and then having her be so very happy. I'd kept it from them because I'd dreamed of that second when they would see us and just flip out … in a good way of course. I knew Mum'd be happy because she just adored Harry so much. I would be sad of course because I would be leaving Harry behind but I'd be pressuring Mum to get him to our house as soon as possible away from those horrid relatives of his. We would kiss and Ron would do his 'oi, not in public you gits' thing and we'd all laugh and be happy. And above all I'd be secure in knowing that Harry, my Harry, would be thinking of me and wanting to be with me again while we were apart.

Instead it was really awkward saying goodbye to him. I knew he was coming to our house for Bill and Fleur's wedding so I knew I'd see him again before he went off to do whatever it was he was doing. But there was a sense of finality in leaving him here. In that place of my dreams (and yes before you say anything, I was still a bit of a romantic dreamer, but my dreams had thankfully become a little more realistic, if no less heartbreaking when I lost them) it was more confronting to be faced with the knowledge that Harry and I were about to part and I couldn't even acknowledge my feelings about it. I wanted to smother him in a huge hug and snog him senseless before letting him go off who knows where and having to live with the knowledge that he would possibly never return at all.

Mum was fussing over him and bewailing that he had to go back to his relative's house, promising him they would get him out as soon as possible. It all tore at me like sharp knives in my chest. Oh how I wished she was saying this back when we were together. Only a day since that would have been my delight, only a day since we were together, but it seemed like I'd lived a lifetime since then and those happy days seemed so very far away.

Something of my feelings must have shown in my eyes as Harry was saying goodbye to all of us. He hugged us all and as he went to hug me his face cracked with the strain of it and he held me a little tighter than the others and a little longer. He knew how much this was affecting me and it seemed to affect him badly too. But we both knew it was necessary and that it had to be done, so we both steeled ourselves in that moment to be good, too be as natural with each other as possible so as to not upset those around us. I smiled at him as he stood back and wished him good luck with his evil rellies and that we'd be there soon to get him out. The look he gave me was one of pure gratitude. I knew in that moment we understood each other. He would give anything to have things different but we both knew they couldn't be. And I knew I couldn't make things worse by standing in his way.

As he turned and walked away towards his horrendous relatives my heart broke again for him. I hated that they were what he knew as family, and I couldn't fault him for wanting to keep his 'adopted family' as safe as he could. But even though Miss Pragmatic had come out to play again I still couldn't help that tiny traitorous part of me from wailing about his damned attitude. If only he was somehow different; if only he could 'be with' me even while we were apart. But, as I recognised yesterday by the lake, he wasn't someone else. He was Harry and he was exactly the sort of person to need to compartmentalise. To him shutting me out was the only way he could see to have me 'safe' and so he put me in the 'not with me in any way shape or form' box.

Ron slid his arm around me and made me turn in another direction away from the sight of Harry dejectedly disappearing in the distance. I smiled up at him as best I could and knew that at least he was with me. He's great, and it's no wonder that regardless of my love of pranks and fun like the twins that Ron is the one I really am closest to. He may be a huge prat about me and my love life but he does it from love and anyway he's _my_ prat.

I really was grateful for him. Over the coming weeks his support was an essential part of my healing myself. I knew Harry had decided we were broken up forever. And I needed all the help I could get to come to terms with that idea. He still cared about me but he wasn't allowing himself to see a future, any future. It was annoying as hell, but I had to accept the daft idiot's silly ideas and make myself see them as fact. There was no use in hoping for a future between us … at least not yet.


	45. Chapter 45

**Section 6: Sixth year**

Chapter 44. Mum knows best.

I may have done a good job of fooling myself that I was Ok over the next few days but there was one person in my life I would never be able to put one over on. At least, I couldn't put one over on Mum for very long about important stuff. I don't mean like that one time I turned all her condiments into salt and she just couldn't understand why the food she was cooking tasted so bad. In fact I only gave up on that one when it became apparent to me that I was going to suffer along with the rest of them from bad food during that time. But I digress again. Mum had an acute case of 'my daughter is feeling sad and I need to fix it' itis. There's no cure for it except to let her talk to you, so about 5 days after we waved Harry off Mum sat me down in front of a steaming cup of tea and a plate of home made scones.

'Ginny dear. What's the matter with you?'

'Not much, Mum. I think … Dumbledore …'

'I know that we all feel so dreadfully about that.' I heaved a sigh of relief. She was going to buy my story, and I wouldn't have to talk to her about what was really at the heart of my pain. But she was a mother, a very protective mother. I should have known better. 'But I don't think that's why you've been so down and unlike yourself.'

'Oh, well … I … don't really want to … talk about hi … I mean talk about it.'

'You know better than that. It helps to talk these things through dear. It's Harry isn't it?'

My eyes filled with tears and I tried to shake my head. My hands were wrapped around my cup of tea and I pretended to find them fascinating so I wouldn't have to look at her and have her know. There was an ache in my throat that wouldn't let me talk.

'I saw the way you were at the station Ginny. And I saw him too. What on earth has happened between you?'

I opened my mouth but found I couldn't speak. I just numbly shook my head.

'Oh dear' she said. 'This is worse than I thought. You really like him don't you?'

I nodded miserably.

'And it's obvious he likes you. So why are you both acting like the end of the world is coming? It's just a holiday apart.'

At that point I really did start to cry. The ache in my throat got so big that the tears it had been damming up were forced out and onto my cheeks. I angrily tried to wipe them away but they just came faster. Mum watched me with concern.

'Ginny. It isn't like you to cry over time apart from your boyfriend, even if it is Harry who you've had a crush on for so many years.'

'He's not my boyfriend. Not anymore' I finally managed to squeeze the words out.

'What do you mean not your boyfriend? You looked at each other like you were ...'

'He broke up with me.'

'Oh Ginny. But then why does he look so torn up too?'

'Because he didn't want to. Oh Mum, he's going to go out and do something dangerous and he's broken up with me out of a misguided desire to keep me safe.'

Her eyes glinted darkly.

'He's going out to do something unsafe is he? Not if I can help it. Ron says he and Hermione are quitting school to go with him.'

I nodded miserably again.

'Well, we'll see about that. They're barely of age, any of them. Harry isn't even …'

She stopped at the look on my face, and patted my hand gently.

'Well, I hope that boy knows what he's doing to my daughter. Or he'll have a lioness to deal with.'

'Mum, no! I just … I know he needs to be away from me right now. I understand all his reasons for doing this and that he's so overwhelmed he can't really think straight. But, I wish we could just stay together.'

Mum patted my hand kindly. 'I know, dear. But boys and men are strange creatures and they do weird things when they are in love.'

'In love?'

'Oh, yes. I'm pretty sure he is. Even if he's being silly about it, dear. Now, you know I adore than young man, but if he has hurt you like this then I'm not going to stand by and let it happen.'

'You have to, Mum. He has to do it. I don't like it, at all. But I do know this is the way it has to be. He can't be who he needs to be if he's worried about me.'

'Ginny, I understand that you love him too. I really do. But where are _your_ needs in this?'

I finally cracked. She was right. I knew it, but she had to understand something. I wasn't being miss prissy and letting him walk all over me. I understood him too well to think that whining or pleading or anything I could think of to do would make him change his mind. And I also knew that if I stayed strong, if I didn't become a sobbing wreck over him (at least where he could see me) then I had a good chance that he would come back to me. And _that_ was what I really needed. My voice throbbed with the intensity of my feelings as I spoke to her.

'I need for him to be whole and come back to me. I need for him not to resent me when he does. I need for him to still see this family as the welcoming, nurturing home he's always had. I need to be strong through this so I don't lose _myself_ through weeping and wailing. I need my family to support me as I am supporting him. So what I need most is for you to be natural to him.'

Mum stared at me for a minute or two and then nodded slowly.

'Ok, dear. I can see that this means a lot to you and that you aren't letting him take over your sense of self so I'll help as best I can. But, I hate to see you so broken.'

'I hate to feel so broken, too Mum. But I can bear it. I think, though, that I'd bear it better if I had some way to show him that he was a fool.'

'Oh, sweetheart. He'll be here for his birthday. I think you can find some way to let him know. Some birthday present that he can take away with him in his memory to keep you in his thoughts. Don't you?' She winked at me almost saucily as she got up and started to make preparations for dinner. I thought about it for a few minutes and then a thought tugged at me of what I could do. I glanced at Mum with the idea in my head and she nodded at me. Something in my face must have told her because she said 'yes, I think that would do nicely,' and smiled at me before turning her full attention to the food she was preparing.

Unfortunately there was a huge issue standing in our way: getting Harry safely to our place without getting anyone killed. The Ministry of Magic seemed to have been infiltrated by Death Eaters or those under the Imperius Curse (who were often even worse in the destruction they wreaked) and they had managed to make it illegal for Harry to floo out of Privet Drive or for anyone to apparate with him, which meant they had him pretty well tied to the place. Yeah, he could walk out but they would have Death Eaters planted all around. We needed another plan and fast too. But the one they came up with was insane. If I hadn't seen them quiz Mad Eye so carefully and check everyone for traces of the Imperius I would have thought he was completely taken over. Fly Harry out as one of 7 Potters? No, it was madness to even think about it. But madness or not, that's exactly what they did.

I remember vividly the terror of that night. Because not only was Harry in great danger, but so were so many other people I cared about deeply. My brothers, Hermione, even Phlegm. Dad. Just … so many people, so many chances for one of them to be … but I didn't want to go there either. We stood a vigil, Mum and I, outside our house, waiting for the portkeys to return from the various safe houses with their groups of people. Sweat beaded in my palms as I paced up and down in the back yard. Mum tried unsuccessfully to make me come inside and sit down, but I couldn't stay still. Soon, she was with me, clutching my hand as we waited breathless in the garden.

Once again I had a mantra I chanted through everything; 'not your boyfriend, he's not your boyfriend; don't freak out, remember he's not your boyfriend …' but it didn't help. Even if he wasn't my boyfriend he still mattered to me and anyway he wasn't the only one out there.

A blue light appeared in the far end of the yard. But there was something wrong. It was too small, it was just the portkey. We looked at each other in terror. My deep and abiding fear was reflected in my mother's face. Ron. What had happened to Ron? The oilcan that was meant to bring them sat there glinting innocently in the light from the house.

'Mum, look. Another one,' I cried as another portkey returned without its passengers. My fear, which I had thought desperate before, became almost unliveable.

'Floo. Mum, let's floo them and see if they know what's up.'

We rushed back inside the house and over to the fire place but no-one answered our callings. Fear was becoming panic now. Where the hell were they all? Harry? Was Harry safe? The thought that he might not be slashed at me constantly. His was the next portkey. I didn't think I could bear it if it returned without him. Just then I heard a thud in the back yard; a thud that was much bigger than just a portkey.

I screamed out 'Mum, someone's back!' and began to run, hoping it was Harry and hating myself for that hope. There were so many others in danger, my own brothers and father were late back and all I could think about was Harry. I berated myself but all the time my brain was shouting 'Oh please! Oh please! Oh please!'

As I ran down the stairs he stood up and my heart leapt up. He swayed a little, looking more tired than I had ever seen him and yet he also looked gorgeous. His hair was messed up and he was dirty and almost ragged, but his eyes were still that piercing green and he still had that very Harry-like guilt all over him. I wanted to run over to him and hug him, and if we didn't have the history we did I probably would have done. But I couldn't do it without destroying whatever peace we had come to at the station, so I let Mum do her thing with him instead. Mum did her motherly fussing and made him relax a little even though I saw him close his eyes, beating himself up, when she hugged him. Thankfully she was as good as her word and not by a word or gesture did she let him know what we had talked about that day. I could see it get too much for her, though, and when Hagrid asked for some alcohol she walked back into the house rather than summoning it to her.

Harry finally turned to me and the desperation in his eyes made me act as naturally as I could in the situation. He was under so much pressure and of course he was blaming himself, as he always did. Trying to help him as much as I could I gave him a quick run down of who was missing and who was yet to come. Together we waited for George and Remus to appear, but when they finally appeared it was obvious that there was something wrong.

I watched in horror as the extent of George's damage became clear but through it all was the terrible relief of knowing that Harry was alright. I watched as the other pairs returned as Bill and Fleur delivered the news of Mad-eye's death and Mundungus's defection. But I was numb to it. Harry was OK. That was all that I could seem to focus on. There was Harry wrapped up in his guilt and anger at himself, and there was me so focussed only on the fact that he was fine. What a good pair we made. I felt all the guilt and shame of the way I was feeling, but I still couldn't avoid it.

I faced the unbearable truth that I had begun severing my ties. Harry was becoming the focus of my life and it scared me as much as it exhilarated me. Not that I would ever cut myself off fully from my family of course, but slowly those ties were weakening and creating a new one. The ties that bound me were splitting and half were flying off in the direction of the green eyed man beside me. The most scary thing about it was that I wasn't sure if those ties would ever truly find anchor and I didn't know what would happen to me if he were to separate fully from me … for whatever reason. Perhaps he _had_ been wise in breaking those ties for the moment. But that wasn't going to change the way I was going to deal with his birthday. Oh no. He needed to be reminded there _was_ something to return to, that the ties that bound us would still be there after it was all over.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 45. Happy Birthday.

The rest of Harry's stay was torture for me. He was always there … often just on the periphery of my vision. I was relieved about one thing, though. It was incredibly painful for me to see him and to be around him and yet I found I could act reasonably normally with him.

Oh, we didn't have anywhere near the same closeness that we did during those few brief weeks together, but we had managed to regain the friendly but not too friendly relationship we had before then. It was a little forced to be honest, but if that was what I could have of him then I would take it. I wasn't going to be all 'no love, no friendship' with him. The time left was too precious to waste in regrets.

I vividly remember the day that I found out for sure what it was he and Ron and Hermione were going to go and do. Let me give a little background on this one first. Mum had been as good as her word on another part of that long ago conversation with me. She was doing everything in her power to keep the three of them from leaving us.

Her mad idea was that if they couldn't hang out together they couldn't make plans and so they couldn't leave. It was daft, but it was Mum. I could see the frustration building in all of them, but it was especially close to the surface in Harry. He was so clearly tense and irritable about the forced separation that I was surprised Mum wasn't flayed head to toe for her interference, but she never seemed to notice the effect she was having on the three of them.

I often found myself doing tasks in the same room as Harry; I think Mum was trying to help me a little by putting me to the same duties as him every now and then. But it _didn't_ help. It just reminded me of how things would have been, if …

To distract myself, and to try to explain to Harry what was going through Mum's daft head, I began talking to him about what Mum was doing.

'I think Mum thinks that if she can stop the three of you getting together and planning, she'll be able to delay you leaving,' I said quietly as we laid the dinner table one night. He grimaced.

'Then what does she think's going to happen?' he grumbled, looking slightly sideways at me. 'Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she's holding us here making vol-au-vents?'

Merlin. So it was true. He really was going out doing something that bloody insane and dangerous. I could feel my face drain of colour. I stared at him.

'So it's true? That's what you're trying to do?' I asked it even though I knew the answer, because I was once again hoping against hope that I was wrong, that he'd just made a joke.

'I – not – I was joking' he said, and I knew he was lying. So. There it was. He really was going to go up against Voldemort, the most feared wizard in the world. I thought about what that meant and how proud I was to be in love with someone who would risk it all to do that, even though it was a terrifying prospect. I could lose him; that conversation had just proved that to me, but at the same time this was another example of that old recklessness that I had thrilled to as a child and I couldn't help but thrill to it again. It was one of the things I loved most about him.

Something of my thoughts must have shown on my face because there was suddenly a tension between us, a thrumming awareness that it had been far too long since we were really alone like this. The last time we were completely alone I was snogging him. My heart clenched in my chest and I licked my lip. I'm sure that he was feeling it too, as the look in his eyes changed subtly.

Our bodies, not up with the play from our more sensible heads, were yearning towards each other. I think I may even have begun to lift my hand towards him when other people came into the room and we leapt apart as if we had been doing something wrong. The moment was lost and while I wished we had not been interrupted it was almost a relief in a way. I didn't think I could stand too many more memories of those old times together when I wasn't allowed to act on them. Still, I did have his birthday present to be getting ready, one more memory that I wanted to create before he went off to slay evil.

However, as his birthday approached my heart began to beat uneasily in my chest. I wanted to do this, so badly. But what if he rejected it? Rejected me? Oh, I knew he still cared. That little scene in the dining room proved that. But he was still trying to keep us apart and what I was planning was designed to draw us together. Not just for now but for the future. He may not be willing to take that chance.

Still, I planned it and I got Hermione to ensure that my darling protective older brother wouldn't interrupt, at least for a while. I love the prat but he can be so intrusive about my love life. Thank goodness Hermione has a good handle on him, and did even back then.

Harry's birthday came all too soon and I woke up with clammy hands and a nauseous feeling in the pit of my tummy. It was time to put my idea into action. I didn't go down to breakfast that day. The thought of food made me even more nauseous right then, and while I had been thinking of waiting til the evening, til after dinner, I suddenly realised I just had to do it and get it out of the way. I couldn't bear going through his whole birthday with the possibility of his rejection hanging over my head.

I heard Harry, Ron and Hermione coming up the stairs, and opened the door just as they got to my landing. Ok, this was it.

'Harry, will you come in here a moment?' I called through the door. Outside, I could hear Ron muttering away, but I trusted Hermione and indeed I could hear the sounds of her pulling him up the stairs as Harry moved into the room, and then … then he was filling my vision; there was nothing but him and I was lost in his green eyes again. Before I could get too immersed and lose my nerve completely I took a deep breath and said 'Happy Seventeenth.'

'Yeah … thanks' he said sheepishly.

For some reason he looked incredibly nervous and was finding it hard to look me in the eye. It took all my efforts to keep looking at him without wavering. Those fears were tickling the back of my mind again: _he's going to reject me, oh no, what will I do? … he's going …_ I firmly put a lid on the thoughts and kept going.

'Nice view' he stammered waving his hand vaguely at the window.

Yes, it was a nice view, but I didn't want to talk about the scenery right now. I wanted to do this thing. By now, being there with him, there was more to what I was doing than wanting to give him a present to remember me by. I needed to bridge that distance between us and just remind myself what it was like to be cared for by him completely. I stared at him, my gaze still not wavering. It was the only way I could keep going.

'I couldn't think what to get you.'

'You didn't have to get me anything.'

_Whatever, Potter. Like I'd forget the conversation we had about how all your __early life you never got presents. I was always going to get you something when you came of age, you goofball_. But I didn't say it. Instead I carried on with my pre-planned speech, trying as hard as I could not to act as nervous as I felt.

'I didn't know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn't be able to take it with you.'

He finally looked directly at me then and my breath caught in my throat. It took me a moment to carry on. I moved closer to him and saw his breath hitch in _his_ throat. Inwardly I was rejoicing in the way he reacted; I wasn't worried about rejection any more. Not after that look. But outwardly I remained calm, even began to have some fun with it.

'So then I thought, I'd like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some Veela when you're off doing whatever you're doing.'

He licked his lips, still looking me in the eye and making my knees go weak.

'I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest.' He was almost grinning at the look on my face. I moved even closer, and whispered 'There's the silver lining I've been looking for.' My eyes flicked up to his, taking in the sudden intensity in the green depths. He no longer looked like he wanted to laugh at all. Then my focus scooted right back down to his lips. Our mouths were so close that there was a mere breath between us and moving forward to kiss him came so naturally.

I poured my entire being into this kiss, trying to show him without words that he was wanted, needed back here. That he had better damn well not get himself killed. It was amazing, better than anything we had experienced before. In his biography Harry described it as 'better than firewhiskey' and despite the fact that I had never tried firewhiskey at that point, he was right. There was nothing and no-one in existence for those very few minutes except for him. This kiss between Harry and me was just … perfect. His hands tangled in my hair and I pulled him closer, winding my arms as tightly around him as I could. It seemed to last forever, and yet no time at all. And then …

The door banged and my brother blew in and with him all the fear, anger and uncertainty. We jumped apart as if scorched again

'Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry' I managed to get out. His mouth dropped open and he looked like he wanted to say something, but then abject misery stole over his face and he looked away. I turned and looked out the window as hot tears stung up in my eyes. For one shining moment I'd had my Harry back but with Ron returned all the reasons why he was leaving me behind and he quickly shut himself away from me.

I heard Harry swallow; then a few seconds later they all left the room. I sank to my bed with my head in my hands and let the tears run down my face. No matter what it looks like from the last few things I've talked about I'm not generally a crier and I wasn't about to let anyone see them, but I couldn't keep them in forever. There was too much fear and anguish in those last days before three of the most important people in my life went away for me to stay as stoic as I usually am. It was several minutes before I washed my face and went downstairs, with no trace of my tears or my pain on my face or in my manner.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 46: Wedding

The rest of the day passed. I kept as far out of Harry's way as I could. I didn't want to see the closed down expression on his face when he looked at me again, so I made sure that we had duties apart all day. His birthday dinner was shaping up to be a good one until it was marred by that idiot Rufus Scrimgeour coming in and interrogating Harry, Ron and Hermione and driving Lupin and Tonks away. I know it's not considered polite to call your Minister for Magic names but he deserved it that day.

When we had all come into the lounge and seen Harry with the hole in his shirt facing down Scrimgeour with a very belligerent expression on his face my heart sank. He really was getting himself into dangerous places now. Obviously he hadn't told the minister what he wanted to know and the minister wasn't pleased at all.

Still, the way Harry stood there, not backing down, looking like the man he now was made me so immensely proud to be in love with him. He was clearly not going to step away from what he saw as his responsibilities. I knew he had some task set for him by Dumbledore and I knew he wasn't going to tell me. Dumbledore had told him to tell Ron and Hermione and only them and so he was as good as his word.

I was saddened last year that he had not wanted to confide those ideas in me. I'd felt almost left out, but I understood giving your word to someone, especially someone like Dumbledore. So I didn't ask – at least not very often. But it was clear now that it wasn't just me he was keeping this stuff from, that he was keeping it secret from everyone. Mum had been quizzing him I knew and now it seemed the Ministry was in on the act. After the way they treated him last year I was surprised they had the gall to ask him, but it seemed Scrimgeour was pretty desperate.

Anyway, next day was the wedding. I knew somehow that they were going to leave as soon as they could afterwards. I tried to catch sight of Harry as much as possible during that time because I was so worried that I wasn't going to see him again. I was sad that he didn't look like himself at the wedding, so the last looks I had of him were to be of his 'Barney Weasley' disguise. But I took what I could get, and as we walked down the aisle I winked at him, wanting to let him know one more time that I had his back and that he wasn't to worry about me. That I was strong and would get through this. I don't know if it did any good but it helped me to feel happy.

The wedding itself was beautiful. All Mum's preparations had been worth it. The garden was gorgeous because of her ministrations. Fleur looked radiant and I had to admit to myself finally that she was OK, that she really did love Bill and that she made him happy. He was so scarred and beaten by what happened last year and yet when Fleur came up to him he looked like my handsome older brother once again. It was breathtaking to see him transform under her care. And I think I may have shed a happy tear or two. I know Hermione was dripping a little.

As the doves were released into the perfumed air I sighed with longing for that to have been me and Harry, or more realistically for us to have the chance that one day it would be our wedding. But I knew that wasn't possible in the foreseeable future and that Harry thought of it as an impossible dream. He expected to die out there, and I couldn't blame him given what he was heading out to do. As always when I had that thought I felt a chill steal over the day and I was truly glad that I had kissed him yesterday. That way if … if … well, at least I'd always have that blazed in my memory.

Throughout the reception I could feel Harry's eyes on me from across the dance floor. I wished he would come over and dance with me, even one dance. But as he remained steadfastly on the other side of the floor from me I knew he must have been 'talked to' by Ron after yesterday and I flew into a rage. What was with that complete git messing with my life again?

I noticed Harry deep in conversation with Aunty Muriel and Elphias Doge and looking as if what he was hearing wasn't to his taste. Hermione was off talking to Mum and Dad right then so I took the opportunity to drag Ron away from his quest for butterbeers and blast him for what he'd done.

'What the hell do you think you're doing messing in my love life, you moron?'

'What? I – uh – your own good.'

'Do not be telling me this is for my own good Ron Weasley!' I hissed angrily. 'I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.'

'But you – but he's leaving.'

'I know that Ron. I'm not stupid. I told you on the train to lay off us; why can't you just listen for once?'

'Well, that's beside the point. You broke up, and you've been so sad. I don't want him messing you up again'

'Oh grow up Ron' I said bitterly. 'Now, I'm going to go talk to him, and you aren't going to stop me, do you hear? I want to say goodbye. Properly. You get to stay with Hermione; just give me this chance to say goodbye to Harry.' I was really angry with the prat by this time. He had no idea what this was like for me and was trying to control my life. It may have been 'for my own good', but I still wasn't going to stand by meekly and let him steal this one last chance from me. He had the grace to look abashed, and nodded reluctantly to let me know he wasn't going to try to interfere.

I had seen Harry heading in the direction of Hermione and tried to hunt him down. But just as I was sure I could see him on the edge of the dance floor Kingsley's lynx patronus landed lightly just in front of me. The words it spoke were terrifying.

'The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.'

I stared at it in horror for a moment or two processing; then I saw Hermione grab Harry's hand (I had been right, it was them) and rush past me to Ron. Then the 3 of them disapparated and were gone.

I was still trying to process all that had happened and come to grips with the idea that they were gone when Dad grabbed me and dragged me away from the dance floor. I struggled for a moment but then went limp and let him get me out of there. I wasn't really thinking coherently by then anyway; the truth was sinking in. Harry was gone. He had left to go and fight Voldemort and I had no idea when I would see him again, or even if I would see him again. And with him were my favourite brother and my best friend. I felt hollow. I'd known it was coming of course, I'd known long before Harry broke up with me but the shock of reality was nothing I could have prepared for.

But while the cold wash of reality spilled over me I still found myself in a dangerous situation and adrenaline forced me to move and follow Dad as he shouted directions. I wanted to help out, but numb as I was it was all I could do to get myself into the house with the smaller cousins and keep them all from panicking. Over and over while I hugged them and listened to the crashing of the spells going on outside, the same words repeated over and over in my head.

'He's gone and I didn't say goodbye. He's gone and I didn't say goodbye …'

Eventually I pulled myself together and got the cousins into a central room where Mum had arranged safety spells, and had got the older ones with wands to look after the smaller ones who didn't have any. I went out to join in the defence of my home, standing alongside Mum and Dad as they faced down the Death Eaters who were trying to track down Harry, who had apparently now been labelled 'Undesirable Number 1.'

Several hours later it was all finished and we had managed to beat them off, or more likely managed to convince them that we weren't harbouring Harry. In fact as far as most people were concerned he hadn't been at the Burrow at all, had left the previous night. The foresight my parents had used was a blessing. It meant that even after the protective spells around our home were breached we remained safe.

I watched as Dad sent his own patronus to try and find the three of them. 'Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched.' I watched it go, unsure of where they might be, if it would ever find them and feeling more alone in that moment than I could remember feeling in my life even though I was surrounded by family.

Bill and Fleur then apparated out to their honeymoon; the beginning of their married life now looked so very bleak. But they were in love and their faces as they hugged us a quick goodbye were still vibrant with their shared love. Amidst my own pain their joy seemed so foreign but I didn't resent it. They absolutely deserved to be happy after all they had gone through. But their love and their new life together really did lie there as a huge counterpoint to my own misery.

I felt more acutely that Harry was missing from my life seeing their joy. I wondered how he was doing out there. It was obvious that Ron and Hermione were going to support each other, they were already kind of together in a weird way and so it would be the two of them as a pair with Harry by himself. My heart ached for him because as much as he chose to ignore it there was still something between us that had me calling out to him with every fibre of my being.

I allowed myself a day or so to grieve for my brother and my friends, and then I forced myself to stop wallowing and to help Mum and Dad fix the damage to our house as best we could. I also forced myself to think ahead to the next year of classes; I knew I had to go back to school and get educated while they were out there fighting. But I also knew I could do something to make it better; I could do my bit to fight back while still at school, just like in the old Dumbledore's Army days.

And the first thing, I thought, was to get my hands on the sword of Gryffindor. Reading between the lines of what Harry and Scrimgeour had been talking about yesterday, it seemed that Dumbledore thought Harry might need it in his fight and the Ministry had kept him from it. I knew where it was of course, and I figured somehow, some way I was going to get it back and get it to him. I wasn't going to sit by and be the meek 'wait at home' type, nosirree. I was going to take the fight to the Death Eaters themselves, because sure as eggs now they had the Ministry they were bound to have Hogwarts too.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 47: Hogwarts again.

I spent that August alternately fuming and depressed. _The Daily Prophet_ had obviously very little clue what was going on but they were faithfully reporting the stories anyway. The 'Undesirable No. 1' label stuck tight to Harry which always made me fume. 'Undesirable' just seemed so insulting, and for someone like Harry who had lived unwanted at the damn Dursleys for so it was like salt into a wound. Or I assumed it would be if he even knew about it. But strange as it was those times of fuming were far better than the depression that set in whenever stories about the way the school would be run were printed.

The _Prophet_ was perkily reporting on the developments in the world we lived in, but no amount of perkiness could disguise the bleak reality. Muggleborns were being refused access to Hogwarts under rigid new blood rules, and some of the eager 11 year olds were even being sent to the new Muggleborn Registration Commission. Oh the _Prophet_ never actually said it out loud, but their bewildered musings on where all the students were who should be buying their books in Diagon Alley told their tale. It really didn't take much to add it all up and realise what was going on.

By the end of the month we also knew for sure that Snape was going to be the head at Hogwarts and that there were other Death eaters being added to the teaching staff. I was terrified when I thought of going back there knowing that I would be face to face with Snape who knew beyond a shadow of a doubt how close Harry and I had been. I knew I would be a likely target to get to 'Undesirable No.1', but I also knew that I really did need to take a stand. This was exactly what we had been training for in the DA two years ago. Umbridge may be out of the picture, but what had replaced her was a thousand times worse and I couldn't just sit back and let them take over without a fight. I seemed to have caught Harry's reckless bug big time and I revelled in it.

Don't get me wrong; amidst the doom and gloom there was a lot of good stuff that summer. I started taking long walks and during one of them I met up with Luna, who was as dotty as ever. But she also still had that knack of seeing to the heart of you and saying the right thing at the right time. We started meeting up every day almost and she was a great help getting me through the loneliness I felt without Ron being around. Always before he'd been there, closest to me in age, my best brotherly friend, and of course I missed him. I missed him almost as much as I missed Harry.

I was relieved when we went to get my books from Diagon Alley the day before we headed back to Hogwarts. It was a welcome diversion from the daily worries I had about my brother and friends and we headed there along with Luna. Her father seemed anxious and nervous as we bought our books, and of course the presence of people we knew were Death Eaters seemed to make that a reasonable attitude.

I learned later that Xenophilius was already using the Quibbler to promote support of Harry. Luna hadn't really thought it was all that necessary to tell me about it. To her, it was business as usual at the Quibbler because Harry was now a phantom of course.

Supporting him took the same degree of fluid belief for her as chasing the crumple-horned snorckack, so she never even thought that I might view it differently to how I viewed all her father's other articles. It was endearing, in a way, how she threw her whole faith behind Harry that year, but being so close to someone who supported him so fully and not knowing about it was just so weird. I wished I'd known earlier as I could have helped Xenophilius out with the _Quibbler_; but now I was unable to as we were headed back to school, too far away to be of use to him.

Luna and I talked of course about my plans for starting up the DA again. I had grandiose ideas of marshalling the whole school and ejecting the Death Eaters from the castle. But Luna saw it all differently. She thought we should be a real underground organisation, keeping the enemy where we could see them but rebelling from within. And once I'd heard that idea it appealed so much to my old romantic side that I just knew that was the way it had to be.

We sounded out Neville on the train back to Hogwarts. We had managed to secure a compartment just the three of us, and we were able to discuss it even while keeping a close eye on the Death Eaters who were patrolling the corridors at regular intervals. Neville was interested but initially wary. I think he was worried about repercussions from his very least favourite teacher, but it wasn't long before the posters of the so-called wanted criminals lining the walls of the train corridors had him convinced.

'Undesirable No. 1' stared down at us, a look of resolve and belligerence on his face, and something about that poster made Neville decide to take the stand with us. I heard him mutter something about 'Harry always stood up to them, so yeah. We should face them down.' He nodded firmly to himself and I grinned. That was the Neville I knew, the quietly courageous boy I had gone to the ball with in 4th year. I felt affection for him swelling up. Luna was looking at us both serenely, and said in her sweet voice 'So we're all in then? That's good. It'll be like we're friends again.'

I started at her aghast. After all this did she really still think we weren't friends, after all she had helped me through that summer? After all the long talks we had about my fears for the safety of the three whose absence was such a reminder of how this year should have been? I shook myself, and decided that Luna just meant that it was like the old DA days, when we fought together as a big group of friends. Her odd way of talking was sometimes an eye-opener.

'We need to be careful who we approach, though' Neville warned. 'You remember that Marietta chick?'

'Yeah' I agreed quickly. 'I think we're safe with the rest of the old DA members, but I don't think we'd better ask anyone new for a while. It's far too dangerous with Death Eaters in the school.'

As I said it a shiver stole over me; it suddenly hit me forcefully that the school really was going to be run by 'the bad guys' and not only that; these were bad guys who were after my ex boyfriend. I was bound to be a target whether I stood up to them or not. The very thought made me even more determined to stick it to them and take whatever punishment they cared to dish out. Harry, Ron and Hermione were surely facing worse than this out there, and the more Death Eaters we could tie up with our exploits, the less there would be after the three of them.

We got our basic idea all worked out during that train ride, getting a savage pleasure from knowing that the very people we were going to be opposing were patrolling around the corridors completely oblivious to what we were doing. Neville was especially fervent in the way he treated them. Now that he was 'in' he had thrown himself right in behind the whole thing, body and soul. His experiences with Voldemort and his Death Eaters were almost as bad as Harry's and he had just as much reason to oppose them.

The oppressive feel of the new school system continued as we got up to the school. The sorting was much diminished, and the first years who were there were looking even more terrified than usual. The teachers arrayed up at the front table looked either firmly at home and very menacing or cowed and resentful. McGonagall looked as if she wished she had refused to return this year, and the looks she cast at our new Headmaster could have frozen steam.

Snape sat in the middle of the table, with a large space around him as if the other teachers were unwilling to get too close to him. He seemed perfectly unaware of the implied insult and surveyed us all with his usual icy disdain. I glared at him mutinously. How dare the evil loathsome bastard who had killed Dumbledore be sitting in his place? It was unthinkable that this man could have taken on that role when he was the one who had ripped the heart out of our school and even our world by murdering our beloved headmaster.

He stood up and there was instant silence, even from the newly sorted first years. They had clearly already learned enough to know that Snape was not a man to be crossed and that someone who could murder his mentor in cold blood should not be interrupted when he wanted to speak.

'I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts for another year. You are the cream of the crop, those whose blood is impeccable and who don't associate with the riff-raff who are too frightened to return to school.' As he said it he sneered in my direction, clearly enjoying getting in a dig about Harry at me. I glared back at him and seethed internally. Obviously this was going to be a _great_ year. Snape's favourite target had gone and so had his two best friends. Of course that left me to be his metaphorical punching bag in Harry's place.

The Death Eaters Snape introduced as our new Muggle Studies and Dark Arts teachers were almost more horrifying. Even though we had been shocked by Snape's actions at the end of last year he was at least a known quantity. And his demeanour was almost reassuring in its familiarity.

The new teachers, on the other hand, were more menacing simply because they were unknowns and because of the glee they exhibited when their subjects were announced and we all gasped at the shock of Defence Against the Darks Arts becoming Dark Arts itself. The idea of learning how to attack other people twisted my stomach, and I was desperate to get Luna and Neville together and finish our planning for the re-emergence of the DA. We definitely needed to get going with our plans. Hogwarts was even less homely than I had expected, and the dispirited looks on most of the other students' faces showed me how much we were needed to inject some spirit back into our fellows.

The next day, just as we were firming up our DA plans at lunch, we were greeted by a special issue of the _Prophet_. The headline screamed: _Potter Eludes Capture at Ministry._ I snatched the paper from Neville's hand, muttering a short apology, and scanned the article as quickly as I could.

_There was a serious__ disruption at the Ministry of Magic this morning. Reports are unconfirmed but rumours coming from Ministry staff state that Harry Potter (Undesirable No. 1 on the Ministry's list of most wanted criminals), and two accomplices were spotted leaving the grounds after setting free several Muggles who had stolen Wizard magic._

_After the miscreants had evaded Ministry workers and disappeared, the theft of a valuable locket from a senior Ministry official was discovered. In consequence the fugitive status on Potter has risen from A+ to A+++. Anyone with any information on Potter or his accomplices is requested to report the information to the Ministry as soon as possible. A 500 galleon reward is offered for confirmed sightings of Potter._

_Readers are reminded that Potter is also wanted for questioning in the death of Albus Dumbledore. He is considered armed and dangerous and people are asked not to approach him in person. Let the appropriate authorities deal with this most dangerous of criminals. _

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Snape sneering at me from the teachers' table again, but I didn't care. Reading between the lines, it was clear that Harry, Ron and Hermione had managed to break into the Ministry and get away again, freeing some poor Muggleborns as they did so. I was annoyed of course that Harry was being branded a dangerous criminal but for the first time since I had seen the three of them disapparate all those weeks ago I knew that they were safe and alive.

My stomach unclenched just a little and I shared a victorious grin with Neville. I saw from the look in his eyes that he had the same idea I did. Surreptitiously, he snaked a galleon from his pocket and muttered a spell. I saw Luna clutch at her pocket as the galleon in there heated up at the same time the one in mine did. The resurrection of the DA was beginning.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 48: Rebellion

Of course recruiting the old members of the DA didn't happen just like that. For a start most of them were the way I had been at the end of last year. It had been so long since Harry had called a meeting of the DA that not many had their coins with them. Some did, since the rumours of what had occurred at the time of Dumbledore's death swept through the school at the end of last term. Many of our old DA friends had expressed their sorrow to me that they had missed out on being involved just because they didn't carry their coins anymore. I always nodded sympathetically and agreed with them, knowing in my heart that it was just mere luck that Hermione had thought to get me involved since I hadn't had my coin with me either.

Neville, Luna and I made it our business over the next few days to collar all those who had been involved last time. I got hold of Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot and Ernie MacMillan and to my relief Susan had been one of those who had taken to carrying her coin again and she had already told the other Hufflepuffs that we were meeting again. Neville and Luna both had similar stories to share about the other Gryffindor and Ravenclaw members when we met up between classes, so I knew everything was ready to go with the new DA. The first meeting had been scheduled and we were ready to begin.

In the meantime, however, we had our first classes with our new teachers. Our other subjects were much as they always had been. The teachers were all as they had always been, which was a relief. Entering their classes was like going back in time to the old days of the school. Things felt innocent and fun and I kept expecting that I'd see Harry hanging around outside the door when I was finished or that Ron would be there scoffing his food in the Great hall when we broke for lunch. But always leaving the classrooms and their small pools of normality the reality would crash in on me when we got out to where Snape and the Carrows held sway. You could see the carefree smiles leave the students' faces as we moved into the hallways, and everyone took on a tense, expectant demeanour.

From very early on Neville had worked out that standing up to the Carrows made them get really anxious but never invoked real punishment, and he soon found out why.

'Neville! Merlin! What happened to you?' I said in horror one evening as he came back into the Gryffindor common room.

He dabbed at a scrape on his cheek, and grinned cheerfully at me around his swollen eye.

'Ah, it was just the Carrows. They caught me trying to write DA recruitment messages on the corridor walls.'

'Merlin!' I gasped. 'How did you even survive that, Neville? I'd have thought they'd be all over you for that one'

'Well, they were, sort of. I got all this,' he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his face, 'by means of a well placed Cruciatrus curse.'

I winced, imagining poor Neville enduring the curse he knew had sent his parents into madness, forced to feel what they felt. He was looking stoic enough, but I couldn't believe it was as easy as he made it out to be. Somehow I was going to make those sadistic bastards pay. Something must have shown on my face, because his split into a grin of genuine pleasure as he looked at me.

'It was worth it Ginny; they let something slip. Something important.'

He looked at me expectantly, eyebrow quirked waiting for me to react. I tried to resist but caved as he knew I would.

'Tell me, Neville, or I'll hex you into next year!'

He laughed and said 'Those of us with guaranteed pure blood aren't to be seriously harmed. You Know Who's orders, no pureblood to be maimed or killed.'

'Oh!' A huge grin which easily answered Neville's crept over my face as the implications of that opened up horizons in front of me.

'Oh, Neville! That's amazing, we can fight back and they can't do anything.'

'I know!' he grinned. 'So I think we should celebrate with a bit of civil disobedience and a trip to find that sword you so desperately want.'

I had told Luna and Neville in confidence of my thoughts about Gryffindor's sword. If Dumbledore had wanted Harry to have it then it was important in some way for some reason. I was becoming obsessed with the idea of getting it and smuggling it out to Harry somehow. I had no actual plan, no ideas on how I was going to find Harry's whereabouts or how I was going to get it to him if I did know. But I was consumed all the same with the idea of getting it out from under Snape's so-large nose. Neville and Luna didn't share my passion for getting the sword for its own sake, but they were right there with me in wanting to wipe the self-satisfied arrogant sneer off the face of the coward who called himself our headmaster.

So over the next few weeks our plans came together in 2 different strands. First we became far more open about recruiting DA members. Oh we never _actually_ flaunted it, the romance of being an underground organisation whose leaders were unknown to the opposition was far too enticing to be all 'yeah we're running the DA, what're you gonna do about it?' But we were far more daring in the way that we approached people and we managed to get Ernie, Padma and Susan smearing our DA slogans around the school. The slogans couldn't be traced back to any of the three of us who were the suspected instigators because we were always conspicuously somewhere else when the slogans would appear.

DA meetings happened regularly again and with the memory of Harry's time as leader hanging over us we made sure never to hold the meetings on the same day or at the same time each week. That was the only similarity though. We never practised spells or learned new jinxes, or at least not as our routine. Instead we planned our slogan painting expeditions and worked out the ways in which we could safely, or reasonably safely, stand up to the Carrows in class or undermine their authority.

Ernie was brilliant coming up with some of them. He had a huge sense of honour and fair play so he felt almost personally affronted by the dreadful way things were being run in the school. He could be a bit pompous in the way he approached things, but his ideas were so good that we all learned very quickly to overlook his very Percy-like manner.

The first of his suggestions that we put into practise was swapping the pages of Alecto Carrow's new Muggle Studies text entitled 'Muggles, An Annotated Bestiary' with the pages of Professor Burbage's old text. She became apoplectic when she saw it of course and tried to fix it, but Ernie had mastered a permanent sticking charm and the pages couldn't be replaced. Alecto would reorder copies but every one of them would always get the same treatment, along with the slogan 'We Alecto bring back Charity' smeared on the board in her class, the paint used also attached with a permanent sticking charm.

The Carrows of course were livid and anyone they suspected of complicity in the activities was put under the Cruciatus curse. They had quickly learned that it was harder to endure from our classmates than from the Carrows themselves and that forcing them to do it punished our classmates as well, so those of us who were suspected of the DA activities were assigned to a variety of classes for our punishment. Neville and Ernie were given to the 6th year boys to be practised on and I was assigned to the 4th year girls this first time. The girl who was first told to curse me had tears in her eyes.

'I'm sorry' she whispered as she lifted her wand. I nodded at her in sympathy; I hadn't yet had to do this myself but I knew it was only a matter of time. Students were punished for so many things that within a few weeks there was scarcely a student in the school who hadn't been punished and almost all were assigned as practise for the Dark Arts classes.

The pain was beyond everything I had ever endured, it felt like shards of ice entering my veins and lashing at me and also like fire burning me up from within. On top of the extreme agony of the ice and fire came a pain that squeezed at my nerves, making them feel like they would burst from me if they were squeezed anymore. I tried to remain on my feet, staring with contempt at the teachers who were overseeing the punishment with twin looks of triumph and glee on their faces, and for the most part I succeeded in staying upright, but the contempt slid off my face as the pain set in.

I couldn't help it, I screamed. I felt weak and guilty because my screams hurt the poor girl who was taking the first go, but I was unable to prevent myself from crying out. By the end of that lesson I felt like I would never be free of the pain again, but I was able to draw a sneer back onto my face as I walked past the Carrows and out of the classroom, my body still feeling the deep effects of the curses I had endured but still uncowed by their theatrics. I knew deep down that they may make me hurt, but they weren't going to kill me and I held on to that.

Despite the brutal punishments, in fact in some ways because of them, the DA flourished. We recruited new members reasonably regularly and our forays out to write our slogans and play our pranks became ever more daring. The Carrows were tearing out their hair over it; they just couldn't understand why their use of the Cruciatus curse to punish us wasn't working. Every time I saw them start to fume when they walked past phrases like 'Avenge Cedric Diggory, join the DA' or 'Read the Quibbler: Support Harry Potter' I felt a vicious sense of joy and held my head just that little bit higher.

The first phase of our new DA, the recruiting and making our presence known, had its culmination in Neville, Luna and myself breaking into Snape's office and trying to steal the sword I knew Harry needed. The first part of our plan went perfectly. We kept a look out until we saw Snape head into the Great Hall and then managed to trick the gargoyles into letting us into the head's quarters. We had overheard Snape use the password the day before and thankfully he hadn't changed it by the time we tried to get in.

The sword was in plain sight by the side of Snape's desk, hanging suspended behind a glass case. Neville took a deep breath and smashed the glass and grabbed the sword. Luna and I were keeping a look out and all seemed to be going to plan. We were on our way out of the room, with the sword carefully concealed beneath Neville's robes, when we heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

We were cornered of course. There was nowhere to run. We couldn't pretend to have been on the stairs for an innocent reason as Snape allowed no-one in his room unless he called them there himself. We couldn't go back since there was nowhere to hide in the rooms themselves, so we tried to brazen it out.

'Well well, Miss Weasley and her oddity committee.' I shuddered as I heard the sneer in the voice.

'They are not oddities!' I bristled, forgetting for a moment that I was speaking to my headmaster and the man who had cold bloodedly killed his predecessor.

'Well, you three are all in the wrong place and I see you have something concealed incompetently in your robes Mr Longbottom. Can't even do something as simple as hide a sword.'

I was glaring at him, hating the greasy little git more with every passing minute. His eyes shifted to me and his mouth twisted into a grimace that was almost hatred.

'Give me that sword now. That'll be 50 points from each of your houses, and I think you all need a night's detention in the forbidden forest.'

I looked sideways at Neville in shock and could see that he had noticed what I did as well. Snape carried on with his menacing voice 'and if I catch any of you near my office again you will get a far worse punishment. Now hand that sword over now.'

Neville gave it to him, and we all got away as fast as we could.

'Did you guys notice that punishment wasn't very bad?' asked Luna in her mild way.

'Too right we did' I said. 'I wonder what's up with Snape; that seemed very … weird.'

Confused by Snape's actions, and bitterly disappointed that I hadn't got the sword, I went to bed that night determined to keep up the fight nevertheless. I may not have got the sword but I was sure there were other things we could do to help Harry, Ron and Hermione succeed in whatever task they were doing.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 49: Holidays

The next few days saw me in a bit of a funk if I'm perfectly honest. I was more than a little peeved that I hadn't managed to get that sword and my poor friends were wearing my temper a little. The efforts of the DA went on as usual and we were continuing to stand up to the stupid Carrows while Snape loomed in the background, but for the next little while my heart wasn't truly in it. I was still fuming with anger over the Carrows and Snape, especially at the snide insults he would throw out all the time, so though I went to the meetings, my mind was elsewhere.

It bugged me that I had heard nothing about Harry and the others since that long ago newspaper article. The _Prophet_ was disturbingly silent on the matter and I began to worry. Neville and Luna proved just how great they were as friends to me during this time. Neither of them told me I was stupid or said I was overreacting, and neither flinched when I unleashed my bad temper on them. OK, I'm going to be brutally honest here, even though it doesn't paint me in the rosiest light. I was actually a prize bitch to them during this time, to the point where I'm actually surprised that either of them was as forbearing as they were.

It shouldn't have surprised me about Luna of course; she was so serene that nothing ever seemed to bother her. My lashings of temper just broke over her and left her sitting calmly in their wake. She was a godsend in those days. I couldn't allow myself to stress about Harry, the fear I felt was too raw and painful for me to do that, so my feelings exploded out of me in other ways. Luna's calm acceptance of everything I threw at her was just so sweet; unfortunately I didn't accept it as I should have done. It frustrated the hell out of me that she wouldn't lash back, fight back, allow me some good old shouting fun. I sulked about it, missing Harry and his equally fiery temper and the way we could light up at each other but be laughing together again within minutes. Dammit, serenity was no bloody _fun _to fight with.

Poor Neville didn't fare much better. Unlike Luna he was never truly calm about my temper tantrums, instead he would sit there with an uncomfortable look on his face clearly waiting for the moment when I would get over it and stop shouting or being bitchy. His pained but stoic expression always made me feel guilty. Here was a wonderful friend, who had given me so much support over the years and how was I repaying that? By shouting and making nasty comments to him. Yeah, and my knowledge that I was totally in the wrong would always rile me up further til I would stomp away to the lake's edge and fume alone to get that day's funk out of my system.

I knew, even at the time, that I was not treating my dear friends very well, but every time I tried to pick up my game and stop taking my worries out on them, something they said or did would strike me the wrong way and I would flare up again.

It was something of a relief, therefore, when Seamus came running into the common room one day brandishing his wireless set and shouting about Harry. Of course that name piqued my interest. How could it not? I pulled myself from whatever book I was studying and rushed over to him.

'… called Potterwatch, and it's amazing. Lee Jordan, you remember, he's running it.'

'Potterwatch?' I asked, feeling slightly dizzy.

'Yeah,' Seamus said. 'It's a radio show and they've just begun broadcasting, showing support for Harry. Letting the Ministry arseholes know that undesirable no. 1 has support, friends, backup. Here, listen …'

I could feel warmth flooding through me. I still knew, of course, that Harry, Ron and Hermione were no safer now than they had been 5 minutes ago, but knowing that they had people behind them, people other than just us students, made it all so much easier to bear. As I listened I sent out a silent plea, 'Please, let them hear this, let them feel this sense of comradeship. Please …'

Lee's voice crackling over the wireless was as funny as ever.

'So, all you folks at home, remember that those 3 are still out there, still fighting and if you even _think_ about giving up faith in Harry Potter, well, we know of some very fiery Hogwarts students who'll set you straight with some well placed curses and hexes they're learning right there from our enemies. Yet another stunning example of how intelligent the Death Eaters are.'

Laughing, I turned away from the set to see Neville, Parvati and Lavender looking happier and more at ease than they had been since we got to school. I mean, we were all fiercely interested in the DA, and completely committed to making life a living hell for the Death Eaters in the school but we never seemed to have time for any light-hearted fun. Just hearing Lee's voice along with the other broadcasters made it all tumble away and we felt … yes, happy. The fact that our efforts hadn't gone unnoticed was touching too. I finally felt like I was united in something bigger than this small struggle here at school. Even though Harry wasn't here with me and no-one even knew where he was, I felt closer to him than I had in months. I felt a sense of peace somehow, and for that one moment I felt that he, Ron and Hermione were OK. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing they were OK.

The fragile peace was short lived however. The portrait hole to Gryffindor's common room crashed open and McGonagall came in with her mouth pursed in a tight line and Snape right behind her. The smiles slid off our faces and cold reality returned.

'You! Weasley … Longbottom, come with me.'

'I would thank you to talk to my students with a little more grace than that, Professor Snape' McGonagall said in her best haughty voice.

'They are ruffians, troublemakers and a disruptive influence on my school,' he sneered back. 'It is time for their well-deserved detention for breaking into my office and I will talk to them however I like, Minerva. Now get off to the Entrance Hall immediately Weasley and Longbottom.'

He turned and flung himself out of the portrait hole without looking back to see if we were following or not. McGonagall's mouth twisted into a grimace as she looked at us compassionately.

'You had better be getting along. Hagrid is waiting for you in the Entranceway; I fear your task will last all night.'

Casting glum looks at each other and back at our wide-eyed, fellow Gryffindors, Neville and I followed her out of the opening and trailed after Snape to meet Hagrid. Luna was already there with him, looking as though she had just drifted in and would wander aimlessly off again at any moment.

'All righ' you lot?' he asked cheerfully.

'This is not a party Hagrid; they are miscreants being punished, not long lost best friends. Though I have noticed your penchant for beasts, so maybe Longbottom, at least, is about the right level for you.'

Infuriated at the way he treated both Hagrid and Neville, I wanted to rip Snape's eyes out, drag that smug sneer off his face. But Neville placed a clam hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear, 'He's trying to get you to react. Don't let him see that it's working.'

I nodded, and swallowed sourly trying to drag a submissive expression onto my face. Having seen this in the pensieve, I know it didn't work, that I looked like I was trying to stop from smelling something very distasteful, but Snape just took one last look at us and left us with Hagrid without making any further comment.

Unwilling to talk where we could be heard by Snape, and possibly his Death Eater friends, Hagrid gestured to us to follow and we all left the castle and headed towards the Forbidden Forest. This should have felt frightening, out of control, like we were heading away from the safety of the castle and into something unknown and dangerous. Instead, I felt liberated from darkness and oppression. It was the weirdest feeling to move toward the forest and feel like it was a place of light and serenity. In a moment it hit me that this was what Voldemort was all about, inversion. Everything he stood for was the inverse of something good, right, pure. The one place in the world where we should feel safe, the castle we called home, was a place of terror and cruelty.

Hagrid took us first to his house and gave us a cup of tea. What is it with people and cups of tea when they think you feel bad? Mum was a shocker for it; every time I was down, out came the tea and a plate of home made goodies. Hagrid was the same.

'There, yeh'll be feelin' a bit down I'd guess. Nuthin' like a good strong tea t'cheer you up'

I choked as I sipped from my cup. Strong was one word for it, insanely sludgey was another, but I appreciated the gesture and that cup of tea completed our transformation from oppressed students, to carefree and happy friends on a jaunt together. I wondered, for about the millionth time, why Snape had sent us here for this punishment. Oh, on the surface he was as horrid as ever but this … this was far too tame a punishment for a bastard Death Eater to have dreamt up, especially one who had seemed hell bent on squishing me to a pulp at the start of the year. In fact, thinking back on it, Snape had talked the talk and sneered the sneer, but he hadn't really seemed to live the oppression. It puzzled me, and I really hated puzzles. I deliberately put it out of my mind, deciding that I should just enjoy this one night of freedom while I could.

I must admit, however, that after the night's work in the forest I was rethinking my feeling that this was an easy punishment. It was a bitterly cold night on the cusp of winter, and the tea's warmth didn't stay with us for long. All my muscles ached, as one of Snape's requirements apparently was that we had to do it all the muggle way and without gloves. Snape had also come down to check on us a few times and managed to get in sly digs about Harry and the others every single time. I was alternately fuming and cursing through my numb and chapped lips whenever Snape's back was turned. We had some great laughs of course, but they were tempered by the cold around us, the hard work we were forced to do and by the presence of Hogwarts' very own slimy git.

Luna was her usual cheerful self, barely seeming to notice the cold and occasionally staring around her at the strange plants surrounding us and explaining all the beneficial uses her father had discovered for them. Her strength in herself never fails to amaze me; I really don't recall ever seeing Luna in panic or distress. I idly wondered that night if that had something to do with her mother; I mean after seeing what she must have done, there really was nothing else that would phase you.

Neville and Hagrid were also both in their element, Neville because of his love for Herbology and Hagrid because he was enjoying being in the forest where his crazier beasts lived. Buckbeak, excuse me _Witherwings_, came and visited us for a few minutes, checking to see if Hagrid had any morsels for him. After bowing to us all in turn he realised that Hagrid had nothing for him and so ambled away soon enough. There were enough of those sorts of sweet interludes that despite the cold and the aching bones, I was actually sad to be done when we told it was time to leave.

As we trudged back up to the castle at daybreak the first flakes of snow began to drift down on us. I shivered. The beginning of the harsh cold winter was clearly close and while that meant Christmas, holiday food, my family and no Death Eaters it also meant that Harry, Ron and Hermione were going to be out there in these conditions with no more shelter than a thin tent. My heart twisted again as I thought of them all out there doing whatever it was that Harry had been keeping from me.

Once again I felt an upswelling of anger, but this time it was towards Harry. It felt odd; I hadn't been angry at him since the day we broke up and that had been more bitterness than anger anyway. But today, on that long silent walk up to the castle, I was furious that he had never shared with me what he was up to. Oh, don't get me wrong, I know now, and I knew then, that he had made that promise to Dumbledore and that his honour was incredibly important to him. Still I burned with the knowledge that he had felt that a promise to Dumbledore was more important than having me know what he was up to. Dumbledore was dead, I was alive, and yet he was still more important?

As quickly as the thought came, I shoved it away. No, that was the way to discord. That was the way to giving Voldemort what he wanted from all of us: our dissent, our infights. Much as it annoyed the hell out of me sometimes, I always knew when Harry felt he had to do something and after I reminded myself that he could die out there, I knew that anger and bitterness were not going to help me here. During my walk back from freedom to the dark prison of the castle, I made up my mind once and for all. I refused to give in to the dark emotions I was harbouring anymore. They were doing no-one any good. I thought about what Lee had said on Potterwatch, about not losing faith in Harry, and I knew he was right. I needed to have faith, stop worrying and stop taking it out on innocent bystanders.

As the snow got heavier and we neared the castle I made a firm final commitment to myself. The way I had been acting since we had failed to get the sword was counterproductive to what I wanted to achieve this year. From now on, I determined, I was going to look on the positive side of events. Lee had pointed out one other thing. We were being given the very tools we may need in the future to fight these Death Eaters. The unforgivable curses were terrible, I would never deny that, but if it came to battle, they could be handy to have as backups. We had suffered enough through their use, so I was warmed by the knowledge that when the time came, if there was no other choice, we had something handed to us by the enemy that might be the difference between our success and failure.


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 50: Christmas Break.

Despite my resolution to be cheerful and face everything with a positive attitude I wasn't automatically Miss Sweet and Gentle, (Yeah, like I would ever be that way anyway). I did, however, manage to face things with the 'right' attitude, so that when Snape started trying to make me react again I was able to slide a patient look onto my face and ignore him. When thoughts of Harry, Ron and Hermione cropped up, I told myself they were fine, they hadn't been caught and they were one day closer to coming back, one day closer to completing their task. And I never again allowed myself to attack the very people who were my best friends.

All of this was made much easier by two things. First, the DA was strengthened and bolstered up by regular Potterwatch broadcasts. That sense we'd had of being part of something larger than ourselves lingered. DA missions became less centred on schoolkid pranks, and more focussed on trying to find out any information that might help those wizards who were fighting against Voldemort. Second, the Christmas holidays were coming and even though I was saddened by the thought of what my friends were facing 'out there,' my heart rose significantly as the holidays approached.

The only thing really marring my enjoyment of the lead up to Christmas was a new spring that appeared in the steps of the Carrows and Snape. When they were together they would look over at those of us who had parents actively supporting the Order of the Phoenix or Harry, and their looks of triumph and glee really worried me.

"What do you think they're up to?" I whispered urgently to Neville one night at dinner when I saw Amycus Carrow staring at Luna with a particularly gleeful smirk.

"I don't know." Neville's voice was also tinged with worry. He and Luna had become very good friends during this year and I could tell he was very concerned for her safety. Our experience had always been that if you were singled out for attention from the Carrows, it was always a bad sign. "What can we do to help her do you think? I don't feel right just taking a chance," he added.

'How about we stick with her as much as possible? I'm in all of her classes, so I can be with her during the school days. It won't be much protection, of course, but at least we'll be on our guard.'

Neville agreed and we talked it over with Luna. She was about as worried as I've ever seen her, which is to say, she agreed to let me hang out with her, but said it was mostly to ease my fears and not because she was concerned. So for the next couple of weeks I stayed as close to Luna as I could, and it was really nice to have a female friend to talk to and giggle with. Luna was so much fun to be with, too. Even if she was often coming out with frustratingly weird remarks about creatures she and her father hunted in the holidays, she was still a very calm influence on me and instead of sulking about it, I was able to appreciate her the way I had back in our first year or so at school.

The train ride home was an odd one. Usually the train would be decked out with Christmas cheer and the trolley covered with seasonal treats, but today the corridors were the same as they had been when we headed to school. The posters of wanted criminals still hung on the walls, glowering and staring down at us menacingly. I idly wondered how the Death Eaters had managed to get such an evil looking picture of Harry, but even with him looking like a 'criminal,' seeing a picture of him made me smile. As before, I chose a carriage with his poster in it so I could feel as if he was near me as I travelled back to the warmth and happiness of home.

While I sat and exchanged remarks with Luna and Neville, I wondered how I should broach the subject of what was going on at Hogwarts with my parents. My letters home had been as vague as I could make them about the situation we were in. I talked about classes and my friendship with Luna and Neville. I mentioned funny little incidents that happened in the corridors, but I didn't talk about what went on with the punishment system. I never mentioned Harry, Ron or Hermione or let on how I felt about my new teachers. I knew that my mail could be intercepted and I didn't want to show the bastards running our school that I was affected by their oppression.

However, I knew that Mum was never going to let me away with that; she can read my face like a book and I knew she would sense some of what was happening. I knew the Prophet wasn't reporting anything that cast the new Minister and his support system in a bad light, but I was also aware that other students were probably talking about the way life was for us and that my parents likely already had some idea of what was going on. I sighed heavily, causing Luna to look up quizzically.

'What's wrong, Ginny?' she asked. 'Did you get hit by a wrackspurt again? Just flap your arms like this and it should go away.' She demonstrated with her arms flailing wildly. I laughed and said, 'No, Luna, it's not that. I'm just thinking about what I'll tell Mum and Dad about school.'

'Yeah, Gran's already been on my case about what she's heard,' said Neville. 'I had to tell her I wasn't going to stop going to school just because of some stupid new rules. I'm guessing I'll have her on my back all holidays.'

'Daddy's really happy for me to stay at school,' said Luna happily. 'He wants me to begin marketing the Quibbler at Hogwarts. I'll be collecting my first bunch when I get home.' She looked around and added, 'I'm a little hungry; I'm going to go look for the sweets trolley. Do you want to come too?'

To this day, I don't know why I didn't go with her. We were nearing the end of the line and the idea that the Carrows' influence would extend this far never entered my mind. So I told her that I'd rather stay with Neville who was looking a little broody at the idea of meeting up with his grandmother again.

After Luna left, I tried to cheer Neville up by reminding him that at least we were away from school and away from the punishments that still left us in a lot of pain. He looked slightly happier, but I could tell he was still worried. Because of my concern over Neville's state of mind, it took a really long time before I began to worry about where Luna might have got to. It shouldn't have taken that long to get her sweets and come back to us. I pointed this out to Neville and we went to see where she might be.

Fear was licking at me, but my mind was telling me not to be so stupid; Luna had just met up with some other friends and had forgotten what carriage we were in. It wasn't until we saw a pile of sugar quills, Luna's favourite, scattered on the floor in the corridor that we began to worry seriously.

My worry was confirmed when we got to the platform at King's Cross and I was engulfed in a huge hug by my mother.

'Ginny, oh Ginny! You're OK,' she cried, wiping away tears which had risen in her eyes. 'We just got word that Luna has been taken. Xenophilius is beside himself, of course.'

My heart stood still before beginning to beat heavily once more. Luna had been taken? I _should_ have gone with her to get those sweets. Who knew what they were doing to her or where they had taken her? Rumour had it, perpetuated by Draco Malfoy of course, that Voldemort was operating out of Malfoy Manor. The idea of poor Luna being locked up in that place while Draco and his family enjoyed their Christmas nearby made me feel ill. I managed to smile weakly at Mum and allowed her to fuss over me. In truth being looked after felt really nice after the last few months of having to keep myself strong so as to prevent myself from completely disintegrating.

So the start to the holiday wasn't the peaceful, joy filled idyll I had imagined when I first realised that I would be able to escape for a few short days. There _was_ one thing that made me desperate to get home; one thing I had forgotten when I left to go to school; one thing I had been unable to ask my mother to send me. As soon as I got inside I rushed up to my room, dropping my bag in the hallway. I scrabbled around in my dresser and came up with my most precious possession. My photo of Harry and me together. I lay back on my bed just staring at it, remembering those old days.

We both looked so young and carefree, which was ironic since I knew it was a mere six months ago. Harry had caught up with me, grabbing me around the waist as I laughingly struggled to get away. I watched as he threw back his head and roared with laughter as I twisted around and finally managed to slip out of his grasp. There were no worry lines on his face, none of the tension that so often resided there. Looking at the picture, I saw him as I did all those years ago at Grimauld Place as the burden of possession lifted off him. He looked like the young guy he was, not like the 'saviour of the world' … and in this picture he was totally and completely mine.

'Ginny!' Mum's voice had lost the tearfulness and was in strict 'house rule enforcer' mode. 'Ginny! Come here at once and pick this bag up! You know better than to leave your things lying around!' I sighed, slipped downstairs and grabbed my bags, muttering an apology to Mum as I passed her. I carefully slid the photo in between some of my clothes, to be certain that this time it would make it back to school with me.

Over the break I learned more about the reasons why Luna had been snatched off the train, and what we knew made Mum get really clingy with me. Luna's father had been running the Quibbler as a support for Harry and all those defying Voldemort and the Ministry was finally sick of it. Or rather, the Death Eaters running the Ministry were finally sick of it. Luna was the first victim of an experiment they were launching to get people to fall in line. Moments after Luna had been taken from the train an owl arrived for Xenophilius with details of what they had done and telling him that if he complied with all of their demands, she would be returned to him unharmed.

It worked. The Quibbler began to run stories about 'Undesirable No.1' and how dangerous he was to wizarding society. I fumed, but given my resolution to 'be nice' and, knowing how terrible Xenophilius must be feeling, I kept my thoughts about that to myself. Besides, Mum was feeling it too. At first it was OK; I enjoyed the fussing and the watching and the hugging. But after a couple of days it began to get annoying. No matter what I did, Mum would bug me about going back to school and keeping out of trouble.

I had been right in my musings on the train. She _had _heard some rumours about what was going on at Hogwarts, and while she had dismissed most of them as scare-mongering, one look at my face when she mentioned them, made her stop what she was doing and look at me with absolute horror in her eyes.

'You mean it's true? They are torturing you kids at that school?'

'No, Mum, I already told you. The punishments are hard, but I wouldn't call them torture. I detailed my experiences with Luna and Neville in the Forbidden forest as an example, but I couldn't look her in the eye when I said it and I could tell she wasn't convinced.

From then on, Mum never let up with her comments about keeping my nose clean.

'You don't want to end up like Luna, do you Ginny? You father is under suspicion at work as it is, without you adding to the worry that he could be fired … or worse.'

I sighed yet again. When she brought out the guilts I generally left the room to avoid arguing with her. Like Harry, she had a good temper of her own and we would fight like gangbusters when we got going. Still, it was Christmas, and I didn't want her to get her stubborn on and forbid me to go back to school. So I always just left it, pretending I was being a submissive little student at school, just like she wanted to believe I was.

Christmas Day itself was bittersweet. We did the usual big meal and presents. Fred and George were there and they lightened the mood considerably. I remember laughing so hard with them that I almost choked on my turkey. For that one meal it was almost like the old days. We even managed to pretend that the empty places at the table were only empty because the others were off with other friends. I mean, Bill and Fleur had decided to spend their first Christmas together by themselves at their new home, Shell Cottage. So it was easy to pretend that Ron and the others were enjoying Christmas there with them and not out in the bitter cold facing who knew what demons, while we had our fun at the Burrow.

At the end of the meal George stood up and made a toast.

'We all are here and we are safe and happy for this Christmas together, but I want to remember all those who couldn't be here. To my baby brother Ron, who I always thought was a bit of a useless git, but who has surprised me over and over these last few years and who has gone out on an insane mission, thus proving to me that he is bonkers, but bloody brave too.'

Mum fluttered her hands at him in protest, and said, 'George!' in a very shocked voice.

He chuckled and continued, 'To Hermione who is out there braving the elements and the wrath of some very evil people, and all, it seems, because she likes my brother. Who'd have thought he could inspire such devotion?'

More chuckles resounded around the table and Dad was almost in fits until he caught Mum's eye on him. He subsided, suitably chastened.

'And finally, of course, to Harry Potter, who is almost like another brother to me, and who has been the target of some very rude propaganda. When I get my hands on the new breed of Rita Skeeters believe me I have a thing or two to say to them. Anyway, to be serious for one moment, I'd like us all to raise our glasses to the three who should be here but are out there somewhere still fighting the way we all have been, and will all continue to be after this one happy day. Here's hoping that this next year sees them returned to us happy, healthy and with that evil bastard defeated!'

Feeling like my heart was choking me, leaving me with no voice to articulate my feelings, I raised my glass with the others and sent a silent wish of my own to Harry, Ron and Hermione: to be safe, to be well, and to come back to me soon.


	52. Chapter 52

_A/N I'd like to thank the wonderful LorelaiSquared for her encouragement and brilliant advice. Squid, you are totally the best!_

_If you have seen my profile recently, you'll know that I've signed up for an author auction at __. This is the first time I've ever signed up to do something someone else requests, so if you want to be the first to own a story I'll write just for you head on over to _majik' _and begin bidding between April 3__rd__ and 6__th__. I'm looking forward to seeing some friendly faces there!_

Chapter 51: Back to School

I had thankfully managed to avoid Mum getting so freaked out that she refused to allow me to go back to school. That meant that all too soon Neville and I made the long journey back to Hogwarts without Luna. Her absence made it all so much worse than it had seemed while I was at home, happy and cosy with my family. To make matters worse, Neville had a steely look in his eye that I usually associated with Harry when he was on one of his 'saving people' crusades. While I was pleased Neville was so committed to the fight, it worried me that my once-gentle friend was becoming so hardened. Seeing him like that saddened me.

When we got back to Hogwarts, it was clear that things had deteriorated even more since before the Christmas break. The Death Eaters all looked smug and self-satisfied, and Luna wasn't the only person missing from the already-depleted tables in the Great Hall. The only really good thing about being back, was the mutinous muttering we could see among all the students.

Throughout the next few days I could hear whispers about the DA passing through the school. The messages we had written in the last two terms of school had all finally been cleaned off, but new ones appeared daily. The new messages were getting bolder and more political as people began to realise that students were being taken to ensure their parents' good behaviour. I was fairly sure some of them were coming from outside of the DA itself, which made me happy. It seemed we were making a difference for these students. That idea made it all worth while.

Despite all the grief that the Carrows had introduced into the school, one of the worst things about that time wasn't the insufferable way they looked at us all or the missing students, it was the incessant letters I kept getting from my mother. I know that sounds incredibly shallow. The world was going to hell and I was annoyed because my mother was writing to me. Ungrateful child, right? But it wasn't like that. Let me explain.

Mum was unable to stop herself from lecturing me about keeping myself out of trouble and was forever telling me not to take part in the DA. I felt unsafe receiving those letters. If they had been intercepted, she risked spilling a lot of things that we would really like to keep undercover, not least of which was that she thought I was a major player in the DA. Of course the Carrows had long suspected I was one of the big three but they had never been able to prove it. Mum came very close to actually coming out with it, and every time an owl arrived for me at breakfast a shiver of fear shot through me. I always worried about what might be inside the letter it was carrying and what the teachers might do to me if they had read it.

I managed to carry on with the DA, however. I sent strident letters back to Mum, assuring her that I wasn't involved, had no idea what she was talking about, and just wanted to live a quiet life at school. But they didn't convince Mum and her letters kept arriving in droves. I hoped, however, that they might convince the Carrows, since they weren't the brightest bunnies in the field. I was never actively sought out by them for more or worse punishment, or closer spying sessions than usual, so I think I managed it OK. Those on whom they had more 'proof' were having a harder time than those of us they just suspected; although no-one lasted long without gathering a new collection of cuts and bruises.

I would often see Snape looking at me thoughtfully, and when he would catch my eye he would sneer carefully, and the glint in his eye would become malevolent. He was still making snide remarks about Ron, Hermione, and especially Harry every time he saw me but now instead of boiling up and talking back to him, I had learned to just sneer back and walk away.

I could not figure him out. On the one hand, he was the man who had killed Dumbledore in cold blood. Harry had seen him do it, and I had no reason to disbelieve him. But on the other hand, Snape had not yet been as evil as the Carrows. Oh, he dealt out punishments of course, and he had even subjected some people to the cruciatus curse, but his punishments were far more sporadic and often less brutal than you would expect for the 'crime' in question. Unlike the Carrows, he didn't seem to seek out minor misdemeanors to punish with cruciatus sessions. But … he was a murderer, and Harry hated him; he must be evil, right? Right?

It was at times like those that I missed Luna the most. She may have appeared flighty and out of it, but her mind was really keen and she had a way of seeing straight to the heart of a problem or mystery. The others I discussed it with, Neville, Ernie, Susan and Parvati in particular, were very insightful, but none of them had that spark that Luna did. It began to hit me more and more clearly just how much each one of us added to the whole group. Taking away even one part of it made a huge hole.

Interestingly enough, one of my best allies in that time was my ex-boyfriend, Michael Corner. Even though we had parted on such bad terms, I was still very fond of him. He may have been a bit of an idiot over me playing quidditch, but now that we weren't supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore we actually got on pretty well again. His sense of humour was still biting, and he kept me in stitches, which was one thing I needed now that Luna wasn't there. I love Neville dearly, but he is a much more serious person than I am and he was so determined in those days that he wasn't much into cracking jokes anyway.

I remember one day with Michael when we met in the corridors. I was fuming about yet another example of the Carrows' new, even stricter, regime.

"Hi Michael," I said without preamble; I was _that_ angry. "Did you hear the latest new rule?"

"The one where we're not allowed in the corridors for more than five minutes between classes? The one that ignores the fact that it takes longer than that to move between some rooms? The one that shows just how stupid these Death Eaters really are?"

Immediately mellowed out by his tone, I laughed and said, "Yeah, that one. I'm tempted to sit here for more than five minutes, just to see what they do to me."

"I'll keep you company," he said, sliding down to sit on the floor and patting the spot next to him invitingly. I weighed it up; I'd spoken on impulse, but now he said it I really did want to see what they would do. I sat down next to him, crossing my legs in front of me, and took on an attitude of defiant waiting. I was really curious to see how they managed to find out how long someone had been in a corridor, and it wasn't long before we were discovered.

"Weasley and Corner. You have been in this corridor longer than permitted. Explain yourselves or take your punishment."

Michael looked up at Amycus Carrow so very slowly, and said pleasantly, "It's not between classes, and since we're from different houses we have nowhere else to meet." The look in his eyes was arrogant, even condescending. Then he looked back to me and carried on our conversation as if no interruption had occurred.

I really wished I could pull off that look, and the nonchalance that came with it, but in every pensieve scene I've seen from this time, I have just looked sullen, though I guess sullen serves a similar purpose in this case. Anyway, Amycus drew himself up to his full, though rather insignificant, height and ordered Michael and I to move to our common rooms or face severe punishment. I sighed and started to climb to my feet. Michael did too, as if he was moving of his own free will and not because he had been told to. He kept his back to Amycus and kept up his conversation with me.

"I guess we'd better be heading back to our rooms, Ginny. It's getting late and we should really do some study for our classes."

"Yeah, you're right, as always."

"Always, huh? That's not what you used to say when we were together."

Still bantering together, we moved off casually. It wasn't worth totally pissing off the Carrows, just to make our point. The look on Amycus's face as we left was enough to show me that he got the message: we weren't afraid of him. With all the fear running through the school because of the abductions of Luna and the others, we had lost that sense of 'what can they really do to us?' I mean, yeah, they were abducting students; they were still punishing us; they had instituted stupid new rules, but that one big thing was still true: they weren't allowed to kill, or seriously harm, us and we'd lost sight of that.

As soon as we were three corridors away from Amycus, and out of possible eavesdropping range, I dissolved in giggles that I'd been keeping in.

"Oh, Michael, that was amazing! I need to learn that look you gave him, it was perfect."

He bowed and said, "I try to please the ladies."

I laughed, and said, "You better not let Cho hear you say that sort of thing to an ex; I hear she gets quite possessive of her men."

"Nah, she's not like that at all. And anyway, she trusts me."

I bristled a little at the implication that Harry hadn't been trustworthy, and Michael noticed. "Look, I don't want to fight, Ginny, not after we've been having such a good time today. But Cho was in a bad place when she was with Harry, and just because you're still hung up on him doesn't mean he was an angel, you know. She told me what happened between them, and it sounds like it was just an all-around bad deal."

I sighed. I knew I was often an idiot and badly overreacted to negative things about Harry, but until Michael had spoken, I had always considered the breakdown of that relationship to be all Cho's fault. I mean, I knew Harry had faults, and I knew he was clueless about girls, but somehow I had always assumed Cho was the one to blame for that debacle. I'd seen how Harry reacted to their split and he'd seemed so heartbroken that I'd held it against Cho for a long time. But now a jolt shot through me as I remembered that Harry's moroseness during that time had been about more than Cho. I slapped my head forcefully, staring up at Michael in horror. "You're right. I've been holding an unconscious grudge for so long, and for no reason. I'm an idiot! Why do you even talk to me when I'm so mean about your girlfriend? Seriously."

He laughed and said, 'You're a fun idiot and at least you admit to your mistakes – once you notice them."

I smiled, then sighed again. "Michael, I think I need to actually go do some of that homework we told Amycurse we were doing. I'm falling behind and I don't want to give them any more excuses to punish me."

We went our separate ways, me with my mind churning over these new thoughts about Harry. I realised I had taken to idealising him this year; in the past he had been my sweet and noble but clueless, and often quite stupid boyfriend, but this year he had become my idealised hero again. I cringed. It was time to knock that one on the head right now. It was one thing to yearn to see him again, to fear for what he was going through; it was quite another to set him up as that cardboard hero-type again. There was no way in hell I wanted him to come back to a recreation of that twelve year old fawning fangirl.

When I got back to my dormitory, I pulled out the photo I had so carefully packed to bring back to school with me. Looking at that picture, I was able to remember all the ways in which Harry was a real person and not just a symbol of hope for both me and the wizarding world. The reason I had taken to romanticising him again lately was probably because I didn't have these tangible things to remind me of the real Harry, I just had memories and stories. _Potterwatch_ tended to glamorise the fight he was in to make its listeners feel connected, warm and happy about the situation, and that was really my only source of information on him, scanty though it always was. I decided, in the end, to spend more time every day looking at that picture and remembering what he was really like. I still couldn't bring myself to write a diary, but I tried to keep a better hold on the reality of what we were fighting for, and not the glamorised dream.

The time apart spread out before me and the knowledge that there was still no end in sight, no date on which I could count on seeing all my friends together and happy again, was oppressive. But, I reminded myself, Easter was coming soon and with it the start of spring. It wouldn't be long before I could go back to the fuss and love my mother always heaped on me and, as annoying as it could get, I found I was looking forward to being back in a place where I knew everyone loved me. Also, both Easter and spring both represented new life and new hope; maybe things would get better after that.


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 52: Easter Surprises

The days dragged slowly for the rest of that term. Everyone seemed lethargic and cast down, and even though the weather was getting warmer it didn't bring with it that sense of new hope that I had anticipated. It was with relief that I packed my bags, ready to head home for the Easter holidays. Like Christmas, the holiday was only a week long, but the idea of being away from the castle, even for that small amount of time, was invigorating. I was fully packed and ready to go well before I attended my last class.

As the holidays finally approached, I noticed a new spring in the steps of most of the people around me. Talk turned more and more to Easter and the treats we were going to get. The warmth of the new season was finally beginning to have its effect on the mood of the students in the castle. Easter eggs started to appear at the morning owl-ins, and everyone else seemed pleased to receive them.

I, however, got a lump in my throat as for the first time in my school life, Mum didn't send in a huge box filled with eggs for everyone. Instead, she sent me one small egg which arrived on the last day of term. It was so light, that even our old and bedraggled owl, Errol, had no problem with the journey to get it to me. To be fair, it did come with a message letting me know that a bigger one was waiting for me at home, but I still felt very alone when I saw it. I pushed my sadness away as well as I could, focussed on the fact that I would be back with my family soon, and tried to savour the egg I had.

The Easter holiday began much as Christmas had. Mum fussed, Dad hugged, we all pretended like crazy that nothing was wrong at school; though none of us believed the others when we said we were fine. I was restless and worried. I was filled with an itchy feeling that something would happen; life at school had seemed too quiet for a long time, and even though that wasn't exactly a _bad_ thing I felt like it had been too long. There were no new stories about the war in the _Prophet_, or any real campaigns by the Carrows since that first week back at school. It set my teeth on edge, and I often paced around the house, filled with a weird nervous energy.

Needless to say, I wasn't surprised when a panicked Bill arrived on our doorstep. What did surprise me, however, was what he was saying. It was too big a change for me to comprehend immediately. The Death Eaters knew about us? We had to go into hiding? I wasn't going back to school? I just couldn't take it all in.

The one thing I could focus on was the good news Bill brought. His tidings raced through my mind: Harry was safe at Shell Cottage; Hermione and Ron were with him, and _Harry was safe_. Harry was safe; Hermione had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, Dobby the house elf was dead, but Harry was safe. Luna, Dean, Mr Ollivander and others were at Shell Cottage too, and Harry was safe. Hermione had been through hell; they had all been mistreated at Malfoy Manor, Hermione more than the rest of them … but _Harry was safe_.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I hated myself for that ongoing refrain. I _should_ have been more concerned by Hermione's plight, or the fact that Ron was safe too, but instead it was my idiot ex-boyfriend that I was focussed on. After months of fear, worry and distress, all it took was one tiny piece of information to almost break me in two. All it took was the knowledge that he was safe to make me realise how fragile my own sense of security really was.

Every time I thought _Harry's safe_, my heart would sing and I would break into a goofy grin. Mum, Dad, everyone around me, thought I was nuts; the news was so dire, we had to go into hiding for Merlin's sake, but I was so focussed on that one tiny nugget of news that all the rest of it seemed unimportant.

It wasn't until the overwhelming burden of fear for Harry's safety was lifted that I truly knew how worried I had been. It had been a constant ache in the pit of my belly, sometimes twisting into life when some small mention was made of him. But now it was gone and I felt free and happy for the first time since Bill's wedding.

I cursed myself over and over, of course. It was so bloody stupid for me to behave that way. I had no way to know if Harry still cared about me, and yet here I was, overwhelmed by the knowledge that he hadn't been killed. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I be equally focussed on my best friend and my brother? Why was our own, immediate plight not important to me? Why did I have a ridiculous desire to sob from the sheer relief of knowing that Harry was finally out of danger?

Despite this strangely one-eyed focus of mine, I did mange to throw my stuff into a bag to take to Aunt Muriel's. Frankly, I would rather have gone anywhere else, but she _did_ have the biggest house in the family, and at least Fred and George would be there too. They could always liven up a bad situation, and I cracked an evil grin as I recalled the last time they had been together with Muriel. Their pranks were legendary and I couldn't wait to see what they had in store for Muriel this time.

I had left most of my things at school, of course, and I thought, with a pang, of all the personal belongings I would now have to do without. The idea that the Death Eaters would paw through it all, looking for a clue that would show them where we might be, sickened me. It was a good thing that I didn't keep a diary anymore, (Riddle was good for one thing then, wow). They wouldn't discover any family tidbits from that particular source.

I had also remembered to bring my photo of Harry and me home with me this time. It was getting a little bent, worn and frayed around the edges, but it still showed that vibrantly happy scene. Gazing at it yet again, I felt a sudden desire to just ditch Mum and everyone and run off to Bill's. The only thing that stopped me was the knowledge that he might not welcome me, that the war was not yet over and that I would be endangering my family and Harry, as well as myself. I sighed, put the photo carefully away in my bag again, and went downstairs, ready to apparate sidealong with one of my family members.

It had only been about half an hour since Bill had arrived in such haste and left again almost as suddenly. Everyone was in the kitchen ready to go when I got downstairs. Dad took me firmly by the hand, the way he always used to when I was a little girl and needed reassuring. He turned on the spot and I felt a strange sense of compression, as if I couldn't breathe, then a thud as we arrived.

My new sense of joy and lightness dissipated quickly once we reached our destination. Muriel was in fine form. Oh yes, she opened her house to us, but it was from a sense of duty, not love, and she was critical of _everything_. I had found it amusing at Bill and Fleur's wedding; now I just found it insulting and annoying.

"Ginevra! What are you wearing? In my day young girls always wore robes and covered up. You look positively indecent! What were you thinking of Arthur, letting her go out looking like that?"

"It's just muggle clothes, Muriel. We all need to fit in, now that we're wanted criminals." The tone in his voice was positively gleeful, and I giggled as Muriel responded. Trust Dad to enjoy this enforced time disguised as muggles.

"Well, Arthur, it's no laughing matter. Ginevra is asking for trouble if she keeps wearing clothes like that. Those trousers look painted on."

I bristled at the implication that I was dressed like a tramp, and took my bag upstairs to get away from her insinuations. Thankfully, Fred and George were already there and had made themselves comfortable. There was a flesh-coloured string dangling from Fred's ear.

"Well, little sis, I gather you had a fun meeting with Muriel."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't want to talk about it, Fred. I can tell that this is going to be _just _as much fun as school."

From below, I could still hear the lecture Dad was getting. Thankfully, he was fairly oblivious to it; his replies to Muriel always played up his muggle obsession. I could never quite work out whether he genuinely didn't notice her barbs, or whether he merely wanted to fend them off with his muggle comments. Either way, the frustration levels in Muriel's voice were reaching breaking point, and I couldn't help but giggle at the twin looks of joy and mischief on Fred and George's faces. My own eyes lit up as I contemplated them.

"What have you two got planned? I can tell you're up to something. Now, spill!"

"Us, Ginny? You would suspect your two, most upright, and hardworking brothers -- successful businessmen brothers, I might add -- of being up to something?" The innocent looks they turned on me would have softened my mother's heart, but they never worked on me.

"As one prankster to two others, yes, I would. I know that look. Now, tell me, or I swear I will sic Aunty Muriel on you both for the whole time we're here."

"OK, OK, don't get your panties in a twist. We're going to keep running WWW. Wanna help?"

I gaped at them. I'd expected a prank on Muriel, possibly something that would make Mum fly off the handle as well, since both were so entertaining when they got riled up … especially if they got riled at each other. But instead I got this?

"You guys are insane! How the hell do you think you'll be able to stay in hiding, pretending to be local visiting muggles, if you have owl orders coming here left, right and centre?"

"Good point. Hadn't thought of that, had we, George?"

"No, never crossed our minds, Fred. We sure need the smarts of our little sister to show us the way."

"Couldn't _possibly_ have thought of that one for ourselves; good thing Ginny's here to do our thinking for us."

I ground my teeth in irritation. First Muriel was insulting my clothing choice and now the twins were insulting my intelligence? I think George must have picked up on my mood because he quickly backed down.

"We really do have it worked out, Gin. Verity is still operating the shop and all orders will go there. We just need to do product testing and make sure daily balance sheets are tallied right. So, seriously, wanna help?"

I thought about it for about a second. With school not being an option, and very little chance to help out in the war effort, I needed to do something with my time. I couldn't even worry anymore, since Harry and the others were safe and well at Shell Cottage. I pushed away yet another pang of longing to see them all and turned to the boys in front of me.

"You know what? I think I will. But if you try to test anything completely weird on me, I will hex you into the next century, you get me?"

"Sure do, sis. You're standing right there looking fierce and grumpy – interesting combination by the way – so it's very hard _not_ to get you."

"'Ears to you, Ginny."

I groaned and rolled my eyes at both of them. I love the big lumps, but being shut together with them both for so long was going to involve relearning many, many tricks of the trade – the most important being how to remain calm under their deliberate provocation. I sniggered to myself. Maybe this would be a useful thing to learn after my time at school. My patience was wearing thin again, and I knew I needed to reel myself back in to avoid blowing up at innocent bystanders once more. Fred and George would be just the tools I needed to help me along the way, and if they happened to wear some of my famous Weasley temper, then so be it.

From a large, somewhat fiery, family's point of view, the best thing about Muriel's house was that all the bedrooms were so far apart from each other. It was easy to stay out from under other people's feet, unlike back home at the Burrow. I was able to spend hours each day alone in my room each day, just reliving the moment when Bill told us that Harry and the others were safe. I think Mum may have known how conflicted I was feeling, having dragged that confession out of me all those months ago, so she left me alone. She was also keeping Muriel out of my hair, for which I was eternally grateful. One more crack about my appearance and I think I would have used her for jinxing practice.

Even though I felt cooped up, desperately wanting to be either at school or at Shell Cottage, the days took on a kind of pleasant routine. By the end of April, Muriel's garden was in full spring bloom, and the fresh air was so intoxicating that I spent a lot of time outdoors. Sometimes I wandered through the flowers, and other times I took to the air on an old broom Muriel had stashed in case of emergency. She did not approve of girls flying, ("This is not how we did things in my day, Ginevra"), so I would always sneak out when she wasn't looking. It added spice and adventure to those flights and I relished it.

Looking back now, that time was an oasis of peace and happiness in an otherwise dire year. The war raged around me, but I was safe and secure inside the confines of the fidelius charm. I had the happy knowledge that everyone I loved, except Percy the prat, was safe and well. It _was_ a wonderful time, despite Muriel's best efforts to be unpleasant. And, we can't forget, I had the ever-sustaining, bone-deep joy that _Harry was safe._


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 53: Getting the Call

Throughout the long, slightly boring months after we got to Muriel's, I was still buoyed up by the relief of knowing that Harry and the others were safe. The knowledge that all was well, for the moment at least, kept me from becoming too overwhelmed by Muriel, and it was with a light heart that I joined in with Fred and George's enterprises. I even managed to trick them into agreeing to pay me a salary for my work with them. All in all, it was a great time.

I never saw Harry, Ron or Hermione, of course, but there was a profound relief in being able to say that they were okay, that they were alive and well. I knew from Bill that they hadn't finished whatever it was they were doing, and that they spent most of their time in a huddle with a _goblin_ of all things. It was obvious to us all that they were 'up to something,' but that didn't diminish my joy. For now, they were all okay. All the confinement I had to endure didn't matter compared to that.

The sense of joy, new life and hope we all felt in that time was perfectly embodied in one night. A sudden boom crashed through the house when we were all at dinner. I jumped; the shock of the outside world intruding was so great after all this time. Everyone looked nervously at each other. What was going on? The question hung in the air between us all. I slid my wand out of my pocket, and noticed several people around the table doing the same.

Dad took the initiative. I've noticed that he can appear to be a bit wimpy, and often seems silly with his muggle obsession, but at the heart of him is a core of steel. The rest of us were worried and nervous, but Dad looked the epitome of ease. With his wand pointed firmly at the door, he called in a very loud, steady voice, "Who is it?"

"Remus Lupin."

Mum immediately jumped up from her chair in relief, ready to rush to the door and open it, but Dad insisted on asking the security questions. I understood why he did it, but it seemed a little overboard. No-one who didn't have access to our secret-keeper, Dad himself, could have made it as far as the door. Still, Dad loved his little rituals and insisted on asking his question.

"Who was charged with telling you that we all had to go into hiding?"

"Bill Weasley; he told us to perform the fidelius charm on Easter Sunday of this year."

Dad's shoulders finally slumped from their tense, expectant position and he waved the door open with his wand. Lupin ducked into the hallway, looking radiant. His face, for once, seemed unlined and youthful.

"We've had a baby! A boy!"

Mum squealed in joy and pulled him into one of her huge hugs. To tell the honest truth, I was a little misty-eyed as I thought about it. Even though we were still in the depths of the war, there were still these moment of love and excitement. After such a long time, it seemed we had finally begun to get those moments of new hope that I had so longed for while I was still at school.

I looked on with a soft smile playing over my face as Remus showed us pictures of the tiny baby. He was chubby and sweet, yawning with his eyes squeezed almost tight closed, as newborns so often do. I could just imagine Tonks, her hair radiantly pink again, tending to the small boy with a cheerful, 'Wotcher baby!' The thought made me smile again, and I drifted off into my own thoughts until a name caught my attention and I was dragged back to the present.

"Harry will be godfather?"

"Yes, of course. He needs it as much as Teddy does; I think he'll be great."

I may be biased, but I thought he'd be great too, (and I wasn't wrong there; Teddy is a fine young man, and Harry has helped him to get through a huge burden far more easily than Harry, himself, got through a similar one). But it was interesting that Lupin had picked up on Harry's need as well. I mean, Mum had taken him under her wing from such a young age that he had almost been a part of the family for a long time. But it wasn't like having an actual family. I knew, not from what he'd told me, as he never really said that much, but from the way his voice went spiky with desire when he talked about families, that Harry needed roots badly.

Making Harry Teddy's godfather would give him that sense of true belonging, and true family, that he had lost when Sirius died. I clung to my hope that one day I could help Harry have a real family of his own to belong to, but, as he was still nobly staying away from me 'for my own good,' I had to make do with the happy knowledge that now Harry really would have another reason to stay alive, another reason to try and keep himself safe.

Lupin finally left us again, and I thought about how important it was that he had chosen Harry for this role. It went deeper than just choosing Harry because he was still adrift in the world. It also meant that Remus had finally put the huge barney they'd had behind him.

I had heard about the fight something like 5th hand, but I think I got the gist of it well enough. Lupin had tried to run off on Tonks to join Harry's quest, and Harry had rather brutally rebuffed him. I'd been shocked by Lupin's actions, to tell you the truth; he had always seemed to be the epitome of honour and courage and it seemed such a cowardly thing to do – running off on his pregnant wife. But, in retrospect, I could understand the pressure he was under, and the fear that his condition had hammered into him.

One reason the image of a radiant Tonks, and the youthful, boyish happiness that suffused Lupin's face when he got to Muriel's house that night, was so welcome to me was because in the time after his fight with Harry, Lupin had seemed so withdrawn even though he went back home. Tonks had lost her sparkle, and while she attributed it to her pregnancy I was sure it was more than that. The delicate trust between her and Lupin had been strained almost to breaking point, and neither was completely happy.

I wasn't able to see the renewal of their relationship, as I was back at school by then, but Tonks sent me letters and she sounded cheerier in every one. As soon as she opened with, 'Wotcher, Ginny,' I knew she was back to normal, and I whooped with sudden pleasure when I read it. Remus was another story; he moped. Tonks's letters were imbued with a frustration that was never voiced, but nevertheless seeped out of every line.

It wasn't til much later that I heard, via the roundabout Weasley gossip line, that what Harry had said to Lupin had cut him really deeply. I'd known, of course, that Sirius had harboured strong memories of James Potter every time he'd seen Harry, but it hadn't occurred to me that Lupin felt the same way. Having someone who looked so like James tell him he was a coward had really affected him.

I was actually a bit peeved with Harry when I heard about it. Would it have killed him to be a _little_ bit charitable to the man who had done so much for him in his 3rd year, even if he was being a bit daft? But whenever I thought like that, I reminded myself that Harry was an orphan and that growing up without a parent was the worst thing he could imagine for anyone. Still, if even half of what we had been told he had said was true, he was incredibly harsh. So, I was profoundly relieved that two of my favourite people had got past the way Harry had acted, and the harshness of his words. It seemed that now they understood what he had been trying to say.

Every bit of my world had finally come together in some kind of harmony again. I knew that the war was still raging and that Voldemort still had a death grip on the world, but in my small corner everything was bright and serene for once. I couldn't imagine that anything could possibly destroy the sense of peace and well being I had finally attained.

The next few weeks passed pleasantly. The happiness that had crept into our house with Lupin's news remained hovering over us, and everyone seemed a little more buoyed up and hopeful. So I didn't expect the sudden cessation of all serenity when we got the next news from Bill's house. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the goblin they had been holed up with, had all disappeared. Well, technically Bill had known they were leaving, but he and Fleur had no idea where they had gone. I sighed as terror crashed over me again. It had started once more. Our small oasis of calm had dissipated and we were back to the fear and heartache.

I had images of them out there again, being hunted by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw a vision of the way they had been treated at Malfoy Manor. They had escaped from there with help from a now-dead house-elf. Now, however, there was no-one like that left to get them out of trouble. Knowing that they had been locked up and tortured once made me worry that it would happen again, or something even worse. I was sure Voldemort wouldn't stand for any of them, especially Harry, remaining alive if they were caught another time.

Looking back on it, it's incredible to think that all the rest of the war happened during just that one day. Time stretched and it felt like weeks rather than mere hours between the moment Bill flooed us to let us know what was happening and the moment the battle ended. But I'm getting ahead of myself yet again.

It was barely dawn when Bill told us what was going on. I spent that day in an agony of fear. That old bond I shared with Harry seemed to resurrect itself. It had never before manifested when we weren't anywhere near each other. I generally needed to see his face to know what was up, but this day I just knew something was happening. Or maybe that's the romantic spin I'm putting on it from all this time in the future. Whatever the reason, I had a feeling that things were going to come very quickly to a head. That restless, itchy feeling was back, stronger than ever.

_Potterwatch_ was a godsend that day. Fred and George contacted Lee Jordan and let him know that Harry was on the move again. _Potterwatch_ had broadcast the news that the three of them had been captured and escaped the clutches of the evil Death Eaters in Malfoy Manor, of course. They romanticised the escape in the most maudlin way, but it was effective. They had a call-in session after we heard of the escape, and the tone of that show was far more vibrant and happy than any of the previous ones which had been designed to make us support an absent, and somewhat mysterious, figure.

Since the show about the escape from Malfoy Manor had invigorated the wizarding world, of course they were going to broadcast the day of the battle. They wanted to let everyone know that things were gearing up, that there was a sense of purpose to our struggle again. For some reason, they must have felt the same sense of urgency that I did, because there were regular updates over the hours, as rumours came in about what Harry and the others were doing. Some were completely outlandish (they had broken into Voldemort's hiding place and killed Voldemort and all his Death Eaters, for example), but eventually came one that had the ring of truth. According to this one, they had broken into Gringotts and escaped with a valuable cup on the back of a dragon.

On the surface, it sounded as unbelievable as the other ideas we'd heard. But the reasons this one seemed more likely to be real were two-fold. Firstly, there were more details, and, the way the rumour was reported, it just seemed a very Harry thing to do. Secondly, the _Daily Prophet_ ran another strident 'special edition' article about the criminal Potter, his accomplices, and their dangerous status. The dragon was mentioned and the fact that they had stolen a valuable object out of the Lestrange's vault.

Another shiver ran over me. I was pleased, of course, that Harry had once again managed to get away from a dangerous situation, but it set my teeth on edge nonetheless. Danger hung over his head like a sword poised to drop. How many times could he get away with it? How long til the sword fell and his luck ran out? Behind my fear, though, was an immense pride. _This_ was the person I was in love with and _this_ was why I loved him. He was unafraid of facing whatever he had to in order to bring down the bad guys; always going back out into the fray, rather than staying comfortably safe somewhere.

It was while I revelled in the pride I felt, that I heard Mum scream out, 'Arthur! Fred, George! The Order is being called.' Then I felt the coin I still carried in my pocket burn red hot once more, and I knew that this was it. Neville was calling us all to Hogwarts. There was no other reason for both the Order and the DA to be called at the same time. One look at the coin confirmed it; the face was filled with a ruby red circle and the single word, 'fight.' Something was happening at Hogwarts, and we were needed in the battle.


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 54: Battlestations.

I raced towards the living room where Mum and Dad were, almost crashing into Fred and George as they got there too. Mum looked up, wild-eyed and anxious. A belligerent cast took over her face and I knew what that meant. She was going to try and stick me here with Muriel while she left to go with Dad and the twins to fight. I felt my temper rising.

I opened my mouth to complain, but stopped abruptly as George's foot closed over mine. I looked up at him and his cheeky look told me we would figure something out. I know I still looked sullen and annoyed, though. This is one scene I went back to time and again in the pensieve to write this memoir. So much happened over the course of that day that it's been so hard to get it all in the right order, and for some reason, this moment suspended in time always hits me when I see it. We were all there, poised on the brink, so eager to go out and get into the thick of the fight. Fred … Fred was so cheerful, so excited at the idea of going into battle finally. I watch him over and over, and I know this was how it had to be. Like me, he would have been furious if someone had tried to make him stay behind.

Mum marshalled her troops in quick order.

"Arthur, Kingsley says we need to go round up a few more people before we head over there. I'll meet you at headquarters as soon as I have this lot sorted out. Fred, George, I want you boys to look after Ginny. You'll be safe here …"

As Dad apparated out, the twins started clamouring in.

"We are _not_ staying here, are we Fred?"

"Nope. We're coming too, Mum. We're Order members and of age, you can't stop us."

Mum's lips pursed in frustration and she turned her eyes on me.

"No. No way! I'm not staying here to see you all go off and fight. I'm not staying behind. I want to at least see the others, see for sure they're all right."

It was the one thing I could have said to convince Mum, the big, romantic softie. She knew I meant I wanted to see Harry again.

"Very well. But you will stay in Hogsmeade, do you hear me Ginny? You are not of age, you have no need to be in this thing."

I was so frustrated. Once again my age was being thrown back at me. But under the frustration and annoyance in Mum's voice I could hear the flow of her fear. I subsided with a rebellious muttering, hopeful that I could sneak away from her and get into the castle somehow. After all, I wouldn't be _much_ safer in the village than in the castle.

Through all the eager excitement ran one small vein of hope. If the fight was at Hogwarts, it was possible, likely even, that Harry would be there too. I might see him again, I might know for myself that he was alive, breathing and real. I was not going to let my mother's mollycoddling stop me from seeing him if he was there. I know Mum didn't know the role I'd been playing in the DA this year, but there was no way I was going to let her make me sit it out while all the others actually did something with our training.

Fred quickly got Mum sorted out, and sent her on her way with a few jokes and light-hearted banter. Then he turned to the rest of us with purpose in his eyes.

"Let's go get Lee, and then all four of us can apparate to the Hogs Head together. That's the meeting place."

I was still mutinous, and the boys could see it on my face.

"Gin, don't worry. You're with us, we won't leave you in Hogsmeade." Fred winked cheerfully at me as he took my arms and apparated away. Unlike the time with Dad, this was more visceral, less controlled. I was both more terrified and more exhilarated by the experience. The compression seemed to last longer, though, and I was pleased to be back on solid ground when we reappeared.

Lee was waiting for us. Very quickly, we had gathered him up and spun away again to Hogsmeade. The barman was waiting for us, his face a study in annoyance. It was clear we weren't the first ones to come through his bar like this.

"… Did _not_ sign up for this bollocks … first Potter and his pals, now this grubby lot …" He caught sight of our confused faces and added, "Go on, get on with you. What're you waiting for? Tunnel's there." He pointed at the painting over the mantelpiece.

I had stood stock still when he said Harry was here. Now, in the moment, after so long apart, I wasn't sure I was ready to see him again. A hundred different emotions chased themselves around my body. Fear first, fear that he wouldn't want to see me. Then, chasing so quickly behind the fear, came longing and hope, confusion and excitement. George tugged on my arm and I called myself back to the present. I followed him through the painting into the long tunnel, my heart beating irregularly in my chest.

After what seemed like forever, we reached the door at the other end. The boys pushed me forward and the motion shoved me against the door, which swung open. I climbed into a room filled with colourful hangings and what seemed like hundreds of people. But it was all a blur; everything was out of focus except for the green-eyed stare locking eyes with mine. He looked bedraggled, burnt to a crisp, stubbly, wiped out, destroyed. His hair was so long I could barely see the eyes hidden behind his glasses, and his clothes were almost in tatters. Yes, he looked beautiful.

I smiled at him, all the emotions I'd felt for the past months fighting with each other to get to my face first. I think the one that got there was joy, pure joy to see him again. His eyes grew dark as they locked with mine, but he didn't smile. I could see his feelings there in the depths, but he looked annoyed to have me there. Well, tough. No matter what happened from here on in, seeing him, even just this once, made being here completely worthwhile.

I was suddenly bumped from behind as more people followed us into the room. I blushed, realising I had been staring, and started to take in what was going on around me. The person who had crashed into me was George, pushed from behind by Cho Chang of all people. She smiled at Harry, who looked gobsmacked. A twist of envy threaded through me. He had looked displeased to see me and yet he was hanging off her every word, talking to her like _she_ had a right to be there.

OK, OK, I know I was jealous and that wasn't really how it happened but in the moment that was how I felt. Harry's lips had curled down into a frown when I smiled at him, but when Cho said, "I got the message," and held up her fake galleon, they lifted again into a small soft smile. I knew even then that it was me he was interested in, the dark glint of his eyes as they had held mine proved that, but it stabbed me that he was able to smile at her and not at me. Dammit, I had done so much for him this year; I had as much right to be there as Cho did.

I pulled myself together as she slid down beside Michael. The radiant smile they shared together as she slipped her hand into his dispelled all the jealousy I felt over Harry's smile but made me feel even more wretched. Michael was pleased to see Cho. _He_ at least thought his girlfriend had a right to join the battle. I wished, yet again, that I had fallen for a normal person. But Harry was Harry, and he was still in protective mode. I had one irritated image of what it would be like if both he and Mum got together and tried to coddle me. I shook it off, and promised myself that I would do my own thing and sort them out later.

I looked around, finally able to take my thoughts away from Harry and his attitude. There were people packed into every corner. I waved at a few old faces, but it was so crowded that it was impossible to get to anyone. I couldn't even give Neville the huge hug he deserved. Looking at him, I could see he was covered in a huge amount of cuts and bruises. Clearly things had got worse while I was at Muriel's. Everyone seemed affected. Michael, now I looked at him properly, had a huge gash out of his face, and none of the others looked much less beaten up.

It really was time that something was done about this place. Either I hadn't noticed how bad it was while I was still there, or it had got worse. In any case, I was right there with Dean when he burst out with, "We're fighting, aren't we?" I was, to tell the truth, really annoyed with Harry. He was trying to shut this down, trying to ditch us all at Hogwarts again. I had thought we were being called back to fight, but it seemed that Neville had jumped the gun.

I could see Harry, Ron and Hermione all in a huddle debating something, and finally Harry very reluctantly agreed to take some help. Cho offered to show Harry something in Ravenclaw's common room. A white hot flash of jealousy ripped through me and I snapped out, "No, Luna will take Harry, won't you, Luna?" As soon as I said it I regretted it, but I had too much pride to take it back while so many people were watching. Plus, Luna looked so happy and excited to be able to do it that I didn't have the heart to take that away from her.

Harry and Luna soon left, and I decided to try and make some sort of amends. Michael was glowering at me, with good reason, and Cho looked down and depressed. I slipped off my chair and over to them.

"Cho, can I talk to you for a minute … um … in private," I added as I saw everyone trying to hear what we were saying.

"I don't think so, Ginny," she said, sliding closer to Michael.

"Please Cho, I want … I want to apologise," I whispered, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. "I just … please don't make me do it in public."

She shrugged and looked at Michael, who gestured that it was her choice. With a look that didn't bode well, she climbed to her feet and led the way out of the Room of Requirement and into the passageway to the Hog's Head. When we got out there I really didn't know what to say, or how to say it.

"What do you want to say Ginny?" I flinched at her tone, but I knew I deserved it.

"I .. uh .. well, I'm sorry about what I said in there. It was really bitchy, but I'm just really jealous of you." It all came out in a rush, and as I said it, I realised it was the truth. I was horribly jealous of her looks, her poise, and of the fact that Harry had preferred her first. Not to mention how jealous I was that Harry had smiled as she entered the room and just scowled at me. Obviously I'm a slow learner; my discussion with Michael all those weeks ago wasn't enough to show me what was boiling around in me. Cho blushed.

"Oh. Um, well … thanks. I guess."

"I'm an idiot, I know. Michael told me that too. I'm just really sorry I let my temper get out of control. It was a horrible thing to do to you in public." I was babbling, but Cho's less-than-forgiving stare was unnerving me.

"It wasn't fun, no. But let's just go back in, apology accepted."

We went back in, and I knew she wasn't ready to forgive me for what I said, and who could blame her? But she at least accepted my apology, and I felt better now that I had actually admitted I was wrong.

The door swung open behind me, interrupting my musing, and I gulped as I turned to see who was coming in. My parents were standing there and, from the look on Mum's face, the sight of me here was not a welcome one.


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 55: Let the Battle Commence!

Mum looked like she was going to explode; I could tell that she wasn't going to care who saw her blow up at me and that made _my_ blood boil. I'm not her daughter for nothing and I immediately began working into a huge temper, because really, how _dare_ she try to make me small in front of my friends? I had one small pocket of gratitude in me that Harry was out of the room. I knew he would back Mum against me, and that infuriated me even more. After being meek and mild with Cho in the passageway, I was almost looking forward to this interaction with Mum. There was no need to be meek with _her_.

Before I could open my mouth, though, Dad took her by the arm and pulled her against him, whispering something in her ear. Her mouth thinned as she looked at me, but she finally nodded and didn't say a thing. Her eyes, however, remained fixed on me, glittering with the promise of a later confrontation. Well, good. Far from appreciating Dad's input, I was really pissed off. I wanted to shout at someone and Mum's unreasonable attitude would have been just the ticket. But it was merely delayed, for which I had to admit I was a little grateful. I didn't want to have that argument in front of everyone, not after having led the DA for such a huge part of the year.

The room was swelling with more and more people and they all looked determined to fight. I figured Harry was in a losing battle if he thought he could stop us defending Hogwarts, even if he was going to slink off again. Harry couldn't possibly stop this, even if he tried. That gave me a savage pleasure. Finally, I'd be able to get one over on the bloody bastards that had made our lives so very difficult all year, the bastards who had left so many of my fellow students with scars and bruises, who had made Neville into the hardened person he now was.

Just then Harry returned, and an expectant hush fell over the room.

"What's first, Harry? What's going on?" George sounded eager, and his aspect of tense expectation was mirrored in the stances of everyone in the room.

"They're evacuating the younger kids and everyone's meeting in the Great Hall. We're fighting."

A huge roar boomed out and everyone rushed towards the stairs leading out of the room. I tried to go with them, hoping Mum wouldn't notice me in the crush. But I had no such luck. She grabbed my arm and dragged me back towards her. I struggled against her grip, hoping that I could pull away and still lose myself in the crowd. I wanted to fight, dammit. Why could no-one around me see that I had just as much invested in this place as they did? And that was not to mention that almost every single member of my family and all my friends were in the thick of things. All of them were going to be in danger; all of them might not make it. Why was I being made to sit on the sidelines unable to defend the things that were most precious to me?

Unfortunately, the crowd thinned out around us and she still had hold of me. Desperately I kept up my struggle; I refused to give in, not on something this important. I noticed Harry's eyes on us and grimaced. It was obvious from his expression where he stood on this one.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed at Mum, flying around to glare in her face. "Let me go, I want to fight, too."

"You're under-age! I won't permit it! The boys, yes, but you, you've got to go home!" She was shouting too, and I momentarily forgot Harry.

"I won't!" I finally managed to wrench myself away from her. "I'm in Dumbledore's Army –"

"— a teenager's gang!"

"A teenagers' gang that's about to take him on, which no-one else has dared to do!" Thank you, Fred! It always makes me smile to know that he was on my side. Well, that he and George were. _They,_ at least, didn't try to baby me. Still, of course it didn't work.: Mum was too set on smothering me.

"She's sixteen! She's not old enough! What you two were thinking , bringing her with you –" Mum was still shouting, but there was a tone of desperation in her voice, and I knew she was terrified I would get hurt or … or … well, we won't go there. But dammit, how the hell did she think I would feel if I was sent home? Bill said something agreeing with Mum and I felt oppressed on all sides.

"I can't go home! My whole family's here, I can't stand waiting there alone and not knowing and –"

I finally looked at Harry, who had been watching silently all this time, with my whole heart in my eyes. I desperately wanted to believe that I might have changed his mind, that he might remember how I fought at the Ministry, that he might understand not wanting to be sitting to one side, worried out of my head over all my loved ones. But he shook his head, a sorrowful yet determined look on his face.

Even though I'd known how he felt, and was expecting this, I felt a wash of cold betrayal. I turned away grumpily, muttering. Like the day back at Grimauld Place when Mum had successfully managed to get me out of the way like an insignificant little girl, I became sarcastic and bitter. I was in full flight, getting ready to unleash all the strength of the patented Ginny temper when Percy fell into the room. He looked ashen when he found himself face to face with his entire family, several of whom were raging at each other. An inappropriate moment of levity made me wonder if he didn't find it just like old times at the Burrow.

Then the atmosphere in the room moved from anger to hostility and my urge to giggle dropped as if it had never existed. Percy was gaping at us and no-one knew quite what to say. As Fleur spoke and broke the silence, allowing everyone to finally let loose many of the pent up feelings we had harboured for 3 years, I studied Percy. Looking at him, with most of his officiousness gone and appearing humble and contrite, I realised just how much I loved him and missed him.

I wanted to give him a big hug, but Mum got there first, knocking Fred out of the way. That has always destroyed Mum when she thinks of it. She was so eager to get to Percy that she pushed Fred aside in her haste to throw her arms around him. Percy has always been one of her favourites, so she was incredibly happy that he was back in the fold, so to speak, but the knowledge that she did it at the expense of the son who wouldn't make it through that night kills her. Even now I don't think she's quite forgiven herself.

I suddenly realised that, with everyone's attention on Percy, this was my chance to escape from Mum's eagle eye. But again, I had no such luck. I had made it almost to the stairway, moving as quietly and slowly as I could, when I heard Mum bark out 'Ginny!'

I sighed. It looked like I was being condemned by all the people around me, to being coddled and treated like a baby yet again. Then Lupin gave me a slight ray of hope. He suggested that I could stay in the Room of Requirement, to keep it open for the stragglers coming in to the battle. I didn't relish the thought of hanging around like a weak and wan damsel in distress needing to be protected by all the chivalrous knights around me, but it was far better than being banished back to Muriel's to be criticised and worried at. I nodded reluctantly, but still determined to leave as soon as I could possibly justify it.

Everyone left and I sat in that room for what seemed like hours. I'm sure it wasn't really, but when you are worrying about everyone you love, and have nothing else to do, the minutes stretch unbearably. I wandered around the room aimlessly, picking up things and looking finally at the hangings on the walls. Neville had set it up quite nicely; the hammocks had been magically created so that they formed the most comfortable sleeping position the person in them could need. I snuggled down into one, hugging myself as I Imagined what was going on outside in the castle.

Every now and then I could hear muffled bangs, and each time I heard one my heart thumped unpleasantly. Dreadful thoughts ran through my mind. Was that Harry being hit? One of my family? Had Voldemort (I still instinctively shuddered at the thought of his name) barged his way into the castle? What the hell was going on out there? I had known, of course, when I agreed to staying in this room, that it would be a nightmare, but I hadn't been prepared for the depth of fear and anxiety that gripped me.

I had lived all year with the knowledge of Harry's danger, but that gnawing fear was nothing to this. _This_ time I knew they were all in a battle, that there would be casualties and then I heard the one thing that made my blood run cold. Voldemort's high, cold voice thundered through the castle demanding Harry's surrender. There was a quality in his voice that let me know that he would never give up. He was after Harry, and only his death, or Harry's, would stop that cold purpose. I shuddered uncontrollably again, and hoped that I would see Harry again, just to reassure myself that Voldemort hadn't got him.

My thoughts were interrupted by a scuffling in the corridor. My heart still thumping with my fears for my family and Harry, I pulled out my wand and pointed it at the door to the Hogshead. Tonks and an old lady pushed through the door and I sighed with relief.

"Tonks!" I tumbled out of the hammock I was in and flung myself at her, never more relieved to see anyone in my life. "What are you doing here? Where's Teddy?"

She hugged me back, but before she could answer, Aberforth came grumbling into the room behind them. He had stayed long enough to complete a seal on the bar against intruders and was now off to join the fight. I watched him retreat up the stairs, seething with jealousy. There was nothing I wouldn't give to be going there with him, to be joining in, too. I could tell that Tonks and the old lady would be joining him soon and I desperately wanted to keep someone here with me, to share the fear and the vigil with me. So I bombarded them with questions which prevented them from leaving immediately after the barman. In response they asked all about what was going on at Hogwarts, where Neville and Lupin were, and where they should go. I was, of course, unable to tell them anything, since I'd been cooped up in no man's land for the whole thing so far.

The old lady, it turned out, was Neville's grandmother, and looking at her I could see why he had been so terrified of her when he was small. There was an air of steely no-nonsense about her and she looked very set in her ways and had a hard, domineering face. She was just explaining how she had got here when she was on the run like so many others these days, when the door opened and Harry, Ron and Hermione came in. I drank in the sight of him, alive and well, before focussing on what the others were saying.

"Ah, Potter. You can tell us what's going on," Mrs Longbottom said.

She was very proud of Neville now, it seemed. Since he had gone to the Ministry with Harry, he could do no wrong in her eyes. I stared at her, disgusted. It was a good thing to be proud of her brave, amazing grandson who had accomplished so much, of course. But it would have meant so much more to Neville to be accepted for who he was when he had little to no self confidence, and didn't look like he would amount to anything. Well, hopefully, now he had matured so much and come so far, he might have the balls to stand up to her and tell her how her treatment had affected him for all those years.

I shook those thoughts off as Harry responded and I finally heard the words I had wanted all that long night.

"Ginny, I'm sorry, but we need you to leave too. Just for a bit. Then you can come back in."

Not one to allow an opportunity like that pass, I almost ran up the stairs and out of the room, finally free to do what I had longed to do ever since the call to arms came in. I thought I heard Harry shouting behind me, the tone in his voice agonised with fear and worry. Well, the prat could learn what _that_ was like, finally. I had spent plenty long enough worrying about him, thank you very much. Now, I was free and I wasn't going to let someone else's fears stop me this time. It was time to take the fight to the Death Eaters.


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 56: The Battle of Hogwarts.

I felt suddenly free and easy as I left the room, unfettered by other people's expectations of me. I was finally able to do what I wanted to do. I spotted Tonks almost immediately. She was kneeling by a window, sending brightly coloured spells out at a group of Death Eaters in the grounds. Occasionally, one would come flying back and she would quickly duck out of the way and cast another.

I knelt down with her and began to cast my own jinxes into the crowd. Between us, we managed to keep up a constant barrage of spells into the group below. We seldom hit anyone, but none of them was able to move closer to the castle as it was all they could do to avoid the spells or stay out of range.

"Incendio," I shouted and a blast of fire erupted from a bush at the base of the wall. I sent the resulting fire rushing towards the group, which fell back until the fire burned itself out. In the meantime, Tonks was aiming impediment jinxes at the front row who were all falling over themselves and the rest of their group. The resulting chaos gave us a chance to regroup and decide what to do next.

"We need to incapacitate their wand arms," Tonks shouted at me over the noise of several blasts that erupted nearby. "Try Diffindo, and aim for their shoulders."

I nodded and quickly began to cast the spell. Those outside were all reasonably skilled fighters, it was dark and they were seven floors down, so I often missed but there were enough times where I did hit and each hit was taking out two fighters. While Diffindo wasn't a badly incapacitating spell, each person affected needed to be tended by another person in order to carry on fighting, and that took a few precious moments for each one.

We were relatively safe up in the castle where we were. The spells that did reach us were fighting gravity and were so weak as to have very little power left in them, so the minor irritations that I caused them were enough to keep them a decent distance from the walls. Tonks, as an auror, had more powerful spells at her command, so she was casting something else. My less complex spells gave her the cover she needed to cast the more devastating impediments. When she hit, the person hit was removed from battle for more urgent medical attention.

Suddenly a giant appeared alongside the battling Death Eaters below, and for a minute my heart stood still in my chest, but he began brandishing a gargoyle and swinging it at the invaders. It looked like he was on our side, and my thought was echoed in Ron's voice.

"Let's hope he steps on some of them!"

"As long as it's not our lot!" I said, and fired another jinx into the crowd gathered at the base of the castle. I caught sight of Harry looking at me, and the warmth in his eyes tugged at me. However, right then a blast of purple exploded by my head, and I turned back to what I was doing.

When I turned back, Aberforth was galloping back towards us and everyone's attention was on him. Tonks had moved away from the window and was begging him for news of Lupin. Her face drained of blood when he said, "He was duelling Dolohov, haven't seen him since."

"Tonks, Tonks, I'm sure he's OK," I yelled, as her back disappeared into the distance. She was gone far too quickly, and I swivelled back towards Harry. He must have caught my feelings of helplessness from my face, because he stuttered something out about them being OK. I knew he believed it as little as I did, but I loved him for trying. I held his gaze for a moment before he added, "Ginny, we'll be back in a moment, just keep out of the way, keep safe."

They raced off, and I grimaced. I could hear the panic in his voice, the desperate desire to keep just one person safe, but I was buggered if I was going to let him make that person be me. Instead of sitting nicely by like he expected, I ran after Tonks. Her need for support was far greater than Harry's need to keep me imprisoned.

The stairways were filled with dust and spell smoke, and I choked as I tried to keep my eyes open wide enough to see Tonks. She couldn't be far ahead of me, but it was so hard to see anything that she may as well have been on another planet. I kept on heading downwards, towards the Hall entranceway since that was the most likely place for Lupin's group to return if they had been forced to fall back.

There were people milling around through the Hallway when I got there, but I could just make out Tonks's fluorescent hair right by the doorway. She was struggling with someone, trying to get outside the doors. There was something in the scene that made my heart clench. Her body was tense, and she was throwing every ounce of her strength into trying to break through the man holding her and out the door.

I moved closer, hoping against hope that my fear was misplaced, that she was just eager to get out to join the fight. The closer I got, however, the more obvious it was what had happened.

"No, let me go, you bastard! Let me go. He needs me …" Tonks's voice cracked. "Someone needs to help him … let me go!"

"I'm sorry, Tonks. I'm sorry, but he's beyond help, and going out there right now is suicide; there's too many of them just outside, waiting for us." The man's voice was agonised, yet surprisingly gentle as he addressed her. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the fear that now gripped me entirely. It couldn't be true. Lupin couldn't be …

I reached Tonks just as she slumped and let out the most heart-wrenching wail I have ever heard in my life. I caught her, and helped the man lower her to the ground. Close to, I recognised the face of one of the aurors who had been stationed here last year, but I didn't know his name. I raised my eyebrow in a query, knowing the truth but needing to be told to make it somehow real. The auror gestured helplessly out the door.

On the steps, almost at the top, lay a crumpled figure. His wand was firmly clasped in his hand and he faced out towards the grounds. He had died fighting, which was something to hold onto, I guessed; but it didn't really help the sickening empty feeling I got when I recognised the features. For once, Lupin looked serene and at ease, with none of the care and weight of the world he always dragged around with him. His look, so alien to his face, rammed home to me the reality of the situation.

"How?" I asked, and Tonks stirred slightly beside me, her cries having subsided to a wordless moaning. I guessed she needed to know even more than I did how it was possible that Lupin had ... died.

"He was duelling Dolohov," said the auror carefully. "He was being forced backwards towards the castle, but he never gave up. He stood against Dolohov so others could get back to the castle safely. Just as he got to the steps, Dolohov let loose the killing curse, and Lupin couldn't … quite … dodge fast … enough." His voice shook towards the end.

I clutched at Tonks's hand as her whole body shuddered, and tried to pull her away from the door. But she ripped her hand from my grasp and raced towards the open air.

"Tonks!" I called, "Tonks, you need to stay here. You need to rest, take a moment."

She turned to me, almost snarling as she screamed, "No! I'm going out there to find that bastard and if I go down, at least I'll take as many of them with me as I can."

I could feel tear tracks on my cheeks as I watched her. The depth of her grief ate at me, but I had to try one last thing to keep her safe. She was in no shape to fight anyone right now.

"But what about Teddy? If you die out there … you leave him an orphan."

She stared at me, her primal instinct to avenge her husband at war with her maternal need to keep her infant son alive and safe. Even though she had told me Teddy would be looked after and OK with Andromeda, I could tell she didn't want him to grow up parentless. She slumped once again and nodded, turning to come back to me.

While we had been talking, a commotion had been rising outside. I hadn't been paying it much mind, but the unknown auror had. He shouted out now, "Get down!" and we all ducked for whatever cover the Entranceway could afford. Death Eaters had finally penetrated our defences and a few had made it as far as the door.

A number of spells flashed out from around the room, and the Death Eaters were returning fire. I had dragged Tonks with me behind a pillar, but I hadn't been quite fast enough. Bellatrix Lestrange stood framed in the doorway, her face alive with glee. She was focussed in the direction we were hiding and the manic gleam in her eye made my heart skip a beat.

Even from where we were, and with all the noise of the spells flashing and landing around us, I could still hear the words she shouted. "One part of the diseased branch down, one to go … come out, come out, niece …" and the cackle she let out as she said it sent shivers of horror down my spine.

Tonks' face twisted in fury and disgust. It was obvious she knew Bellatrix was talking about Lupin, and I wasn't fast enough to grab her as she leapt out from behind our pillar, all thoughts of Teddy gone from her head.

I could only stare in horror as she aimed her wand towards Bellatrix just a moment too late, and skidded as she tried to dodge the green spell returning to her. It hit her square in the chest and she spun slowly as the force of it sent her backwards. Bellatrix raised her hands above her head in a gesture of triumph, but was blasted out of the way as a strong stunning spell whistled past her ear.

I was frozen to the spot for several seconds, unable to believe what I had just witnessed. The spells seemed to fly in slow motion, and I felt shoved far away from the action around me, focussed down into that one point. I couldn't feel pain, or anything. I was completely blank, incapable of understanding the world around me. Bellatrix stumbled to her feet and turned in my direction. All my energy, all my hatred, simmered as I stared at her.

Then a spell shook the pillar beside me head and I was crashed back into the battle surging around me. I had to step up, do my part. I had to make sure that none of the evil bastards trying to take over our school got to Tonks. I sent spell after spell flying out at the few Death Eaters who had appeared behind Bellatrix in the doorway.

It was shattering, war was shattering. It seemed insane that I had to keep going even though I had witnessed one of my favourite people being killed. But the reality was that if I gave up, then I could be next. Even though life had become insane in that one moment, I just kept moving. Left over adrenalin kept me going, kept me focussed on what was coming at me.

Without much thought, I kept throwing spells, moving to regroup with other defenders. I caught sight of my mother and, though she looked grim, I made my way over to her anyway. Between us all, we managed to repel the Death Eaters who had entered the building by the doorway, and a small force of aurors put up some sort of defensive spell to cover that vulnerable spot.

Then the cry came down that the walls had been broached at another point and we were all needed. Mum tried to frogmarch me back up to the Room of Requirement, but I stood my ground.

"I can't, Mum, I can't go back in there …" I struggled to get away from her. The Entranceway was emptying around us as the others obeyed that desperate call to fight.

"You can, and you will, young lady. You promised if we let you stay that you would keep to the Room of Requirement."

"I know, Mum. I'm sorry. But it sounds like it's too dangerous to try and get back there, and besides, Harry and the others are using it for something."

She pursed her lips and looked at me, then nodded briskly. "Then you are to stay with me at all times. No, no arguing Ginny. This is not a reward for your behaviour. If we can make it back to that room, you will be going back in there. I'm doing this so I can keep an eye on you."

But I saw the slight twinkle in her eyes. Despite her fear and motherly need to keep me out of danger, she was proud of me. Knowing that made my heart swell, and I was able to ignore the ache I was feeling over Lupin and Tonks. I grinned up at her, and said, "You're on! Should I race you up there?"

She opened her mouth to retort with something sarcastic, when Percy dashed up to us. The look on his face was so frightening that both Mum and I dropped our banter immediately.

"What? Percy, what is it?" Mum's voice was high and cracked. She could tell. This was one memory I didn't want to revisit, but when I did look at it for this memoir my heart broke all over again. It was there on her face. She knew already, but didn't want to believe, didn't want it to be true.

He looked at us for a long moment, and the world seemed to fall away again. The memory of Tonks screaming for Lupin crashed over me and the sight of her face as it fell to the ground followed quickly behind. Something told me that Percy had seen something like what I had seen, and suddenly I didn't want to hear either. But the words came anyway, and the world truly did seem to stop.

"It's Fred. Mum, I'm sorry. Fred …"


	58. Chapter 58

_A/N This is a little long, I'm sorry. I got a little caught up in doing this one. I'd like to thank the wonderful Lorelaisquared, who has done a sterling job of keeping me motivated and pointing out my mistakes and omissions. You have been my rock, Squid!_

Chapter 57: Harry's Last Stand.

The world stopped dead and the silence was deafening. All around us bright flashes of colour and motion whirled, but they all seemed unreal. I couldn't take it in, couldn't bring myself to really understand what Percy had said. But Dad came up behind him, and the truth of it was in his eyes. I let out a pained scream that reminded me forcibly of Tonks agonised cries for Lupin, but that pain had receded. It was so far away it almost didn't exist anymore. I had a newer, rougher grief.

"Where is he? Percy? We have to get him. We can't leave him lying out there for who-knows who to find." Mum was trying to be calm and firm, but her voice shook. I was sickened when Percy told me where he and Harry had left Fred. I knew it was the best they could do, but I agreed; we had to get him.

"I … I'll come too. I'll help." I could hear the breathy quality to my voice.

"No, you need to get back to the R-room …" I felt tears begin to slide down my face at the tone in Mum's voice, but I had to be firm

"Mum, people need to be out there fighting the bastards who have got in. I can hear people still duelling. But we need ... I need … Fred needs to be rescued." My voice, which had been quaking, finally broke. But Mum nodded and dried her eyes. Dad, still shaking, went off to find George and Ron to keep up the fight. Mum, Percy and I headed to where Fred was waiting for us.

Seeing him was far worse than imagining it. It was worse even, than seeing Lupin and Tonks had been. Fred was crumpled into a space hardly big enough for to fit a person. He looked like a marionette waiting for someone to pick up his strings and make him move, but his blank eyes, staring into the nothingness of the broken wall across from him, belied the image.

Mum let out a sob and rushed to him, trying to straighten him out. She clutched him to her after a moment of futilely patting at his clothes. Fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks as she held him tightly. I shook my head, still in disbelief, but moved forward to help Percy as he gently tried to extricate Fred from Mum's grasp.

She was lost in her own world, communing with her lost son. We eventually got her attention, and she nodded and slid away reluctantly, knowing (as we all did, I guess) that while the fight may have gone from this corridor, the enemy could return at any time. The world may have stopped for _us_, but we were increasingly aware that it went on around us.

Carrying Fred was one of the hardest things I've done. He was stiffening, so we had to bend him into shape, and try to carry him with as much dignity as we could. It wasn't much; the fear of someone coming along hastened our steps and made us awkward. Mum stayed beside us with her wand out, ready to cast whatever spell she needed to in order to protect Fred in this one, last way. By mutual understanding, we were heading for the Great Hall. Somehow we knew that was where everyone would gather.

Suddenly a high voice boomed through the castle, magically magnified so as to reach everyone. "You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery." We stopped in our tracks, overcome by the menace in the voice. He was trying to sound reasoned, but the evil in him could not be masked; the reasoned tone he was taking just made his voice more sinister. He continued on as we struggled to keep Fred up, and move him on towards the Hall.

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste."

I looked down at Fred, and grimaced. _Too late, buster,_ I thought ruefully. Percy's face had curled into a snarl, but the voice carried on, relentlessly.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful." I shuddered at the implication. There was no way he really was merciful, so I wondered why he wanted to give that impression. Maybe to make us surrender. _Too late again_, I thought. _You killed my brother; I will _never_ support you_.

"I command my forces to retreat. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured." My knees almost buckled as he said that, and all I could think was that we wouldn't be stopped. We could carry our precious burden and get Fred to the Hall without incident. Strange as it may sound in all the horror of that day, but I felt a moment of relief.

The next words he spoke destroyed that.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you." Once again I stopped moving, unable to force my now-rubbery legs to keep going. Mum turned to look at me, an expression of concern etched right across her face. Percy, who had been dragged to a halt when I paused, was looking at me quizzically. Of course. He had no way of knowing what Harry was to me, and I to him. I gaped at him wordlessly; my heart, which I had thought broken already, ripped inside me as the cold voice continued. "You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that time, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

My heart tried to stop in my chest. I knew Harry too well to doubt what he would thinks about doing. Mum opened her mouth, presumably to say something comforting, some platitude about how he wouldn't listen, but I shook her off irritably. I hitched Fred as best I could and pressed forward. Percy took the hint, and moved backwards without saying a word. He may have been the biggest git in our family, but in that moment he understood me and what I needed. I loved him for it.

I couldn't stop the shaking in my legs, though, and once we had Fred safely in the Great Hall, I slid to the ground and took several deep breaths, trying to steady myself. Now that I had carried out my task, there was nothing between me and the awful reality, and reaction set in. I began to shake uncontrollably and I finally allowed tears to drench my cheeks.

Fred was lying next to Remus and Tonks, all their faces serene and calm amidst the chaos around them. Fred's was curved into a slight smile, and I began to cry as I looked at him, realising for the first time that I would never see that smile light his face again. The terrible toll of this day was overwhelming, and I didn't resist as Percy pulled me to my feet and gave me a huge hug. I sobbed into his shoulder, barely noticing as Dad arrived and hugged Mum. Bill, George and Fleur followed behind him.

An almost inhuman sound pulled me away from Percy and I watched, in horror, as George tried helplessly to wake Fred up. For a suspended moment, no-one moved, we just watched him desperately trying to rally his twin. As his attempts slipped into sobs and he dropped his head onto Fred's, Mum and Dad slid down beside him. None of us could stop the tears that fell right then, and none of us wanted to. Mum finally let go of her calm reserve and threw herself across Fred's chest, her body racked with the sobs that now overcame her. Dad held her as tightly as he could and tears ran unchecked down his face.

I turned helplessly, trying to find some anchor in the sea of pain I was feeling. I wanted, though I hated to admit it, Harry to come and be with me. But I knew he wouldn't come, even if he could. After that loud speaker message from Voldemort, Harry would almost certainly cut himself off from everyone. That was his way. His noble streak would make him think he put us in more danger by being near. The idea of him shutting himself away tore at me, but I knew that's what he would do.

Indeed, as I turned and was engulfed by Hermione, I thought I caught a glimpse of his pallid face in the Entranceway before it was gone and I was drawn back to the immediate grief of my family.

Hermione's face was white as she stared down at Tonks, and Ron looked destroyed. They had been there with Fred, but like the rest of us they'd had to carry on, carry out the defence of the castle with no time to grieve. Now, there was an hour of peace and we all had to actually deal with the reality of what had happened. There had been so much loss, so much death in so little time. It flowed over us now, and I thought fleetingly that Voldemort hadn't really done us a favour here. We had been taken out of battle mode and into grief. How would we recover from that and fight again?

We had to fight again, I told myself, because I refused to believe, seriously believe, that Harry would hand himself over. I had to hold onto the idea that he would be okay. After so much time living with the fear of his death hanging over me, I didn't want to lose the precious knowledge that he was alive. There was that niggling fear though, that he would do it. The fact that he wasn't here with us clawed at me again, and I impatiently pushed away the thought. I wasn't going to let it be true. We _would_ fight again, and Harry was _not_ going to die.

To drag myself away from the here and now, from the cloying grief, and the intense fear, I asked Ron and Hermione what they had been up to. Hermione's face went even whiter than before, and it was Ron who had to answer.

'We went after the snake.' We all looked at him in puzzlement. 'Long story, but Snape's dead. We saw it … the snake. It was …' he blanched. I decided that if it could make Ron go that colour then I really didn't want to hear the details. I couldn't bring myself to care that he was dead. The guy was a traitor and a bully, and compared to the death of someone like Fred, who died to protect what was good in the world, I just couldn't care about Snape.

Yes, after several later discussions with Harry, I felt guilty for those feelings. Snape had been fighting the same fight we had been and with very little reward, but in that moment I didn't know or care about that. Fred, Lupin and Tonks were the ones who mattered to me. The death of a bitter man, no matter how brutal that death was, just wasn't important.

Suddenly, I couldn't cope with being there. Mum's sobs had softened into hiccoughs, but she still lay on top of Fred as if she couldn't let him go. Dad sat with her, tear tracks carved into his cheeks, and George, well, George remained in his own world, head on Fred's, oblivious. I couldn't deal with this anymore. I had to get out.

Professor McGonagall, voice shaking slightly with the strain, gave me a way to escape. She magically enhanced her voice to reach all areas of the hall and asked all those who were able, to please help find our dead and injured and bring them back inside, where they could be honoured or tended.

Percy, looking awkward, was one of the first to leave, giving Dad's shoulder a squeeze as he left and whispering something softly to Mum. Bill and Fleur followed him, and I slipped out quietly after them. Hermione gave me a slight nod as I slid my hand from her grasp, and I knew she understood.

I found myself on the grounds and blinked slightly against the impenetrable darkness. After all the lights of the castle, the grounds seemed even more deserted, more ghostly. My eyes slowly adjusted as I stood there, taking in huge gulps of the night air, and I was able finally to make out slight shifts in the quality of the black surrounding me. People were moving, and here and there wands had been lit, their pinpoints of light piercing the darkness.

I whispered, "Lumos," and made my way out to begin the grim task of finding survivors among the bodies littering the grounds. I had no way of knowing how much time had slid past while we were together in the Hall, but now that I was alone I had time to think about Harry.

His hour was slipping away far too quickly, and the more time that went by without my having spotted him, the more fear tore into my heart. I was battling between my horror and sadness over Fred and my increasingly rampant fear for Harry. Forever ago, it seemed, I had acknowledged to myself the ties that had cut loose from my family and embedded into him. Once again, I wondered how I could survive if he was gone. Back then, I had the fear of his death; this time, even though I tried to push it away, I had the almost certainty.

I nearly stumbled as a moan pulled me out of my bleak thoughts. A few feet away from me a girl was feebly stirring on the ground. All thoughts of Harry, and even Fred, vanished and I rushed to her side. I crouched beside her, holding her hand. It was obvious very quickly that she was beyond help. _Dammit_. I wiped tears from my eyes as I had the ferocious thought, _Dammit. How many deaths do I have to see tonight?_

She was whispering, barely able to speak, but putting everything she had into calling for her mother.

"It's all right, it's ok. We're going to get you inside," I said, with tears in my eyes.

"But I want to go _home_, I don't want to fight anymore!"

"I know." I thought about what I had seen, how so many people wouldn't get home today, including this girl, and my voice broke. "It's going to be all right."

I sensed someone walking close by me and turned my head slightly. For a crazy moment I thought it was Harry, thought I could hear the unique cadence of his breath. But I pushed the thought aside. I wanted to see him so much that now I was conjuring him. But the thought pulled all my fear for him back inside, and I began to shake. His time was so close to being up. I wished I could see him just one more time, let him know that he was needed here with me.

The foot-steps moved on, but the fear and anxiety stayed with me. I couldn't help but sense that _something_ was coming at the end of that hour. Whether or not Harry gave himself up, I knew that Voldemort was intent on killing him tonight. I shuddered, not wanting to admit to the idea, but unable to keep the knowledge at bay.

Someone touched my shoulder and I jumped. I'd been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn't heard the new person approach. I looked down at the girl I was with and saw that she had gone. Neville smiled at me, and whispered that he would help me get her to the castle. I nodded, and between us we were able to lift her and slowly carry her inside.

Neville still had that determined look in his eye, and it saddened me. I missed that boy he used to be. We'd become such good friends this last year, however, and he knew me so well. It was a comfort to me that it was him who was here, helping with this job.

"I saw Harry, you know," he said, almost conversationally, hoisting the girl we were carrying slightly as she sagged between us.

"When?"

"Just now. He was heading into the grounds. Said he had something to do, something that would keep him out of the way for a while."

My heart stood still, then began to beat irregularly. It _could_ have been him I felt, then. And the person I had sensed was heading to the Forest. _Stupid noble git_, I thought ferociously as we carefully walked up the stairs to the castle. _Don't you dare come back dead, or I'll kill you myself_. My levity masked the pain I was feeling. I knew, somehow, that this was the end.

Eons passed after we got the girl into the Great Hall. Knowing Harry was out there, and knowing the type of person he was, I couldn't focus on anything. Hermione watched my restless pacing with a compassionate eye and eventually she came up to me. She took my hand and clenched it in support. One look in her eyes and I knew she understood what I feared; the same fear was mirrored in her. She clasped my hand, and asked me how I was. I nodded briefly with my lips clamped shut to prevent the shaking. I could feel my eyes burning and I turned away, trying to ignore all the hurt and pain of the day.

The rest of that hour was interminable. Imagining where Harry was and what was happening to him was excruciating. I almost wished that Neville hadn't told me that he had met up with Harry. Then I could have pretended that he just wasn't here in the Hall with us because he was still searching for whatever it was he needed within the castle. Instead, I knew, without a doubt, that he had turned himself in.

Still, when Voldemort's voice boomed over the grounds once more, I didn't believe it, refused to take in what he was saying. I had clung onto the smallest ray of hope that Harry hadn't gone out there, and that even if he had that it wouldn't end like this. I raced outside with all the rest, hoping that this was another of Voldemort's lies. My eyes were drawn to the small knot of people surrounding Hagrid, and I couldn't bring myself to process what I was seeing.

Around me, I could hear voices screaming; disbelieving, horrified voices. But it was all coming from a tinny distance. When it finally registered in my mind that the figure, limp and white in Hagrid's arms, truly was Harry, I broke. I screamed his name over and over until I was hoarse, sinking to my knees, shock overcoming all my senses. All the fear, anguish, and agonised hope, had come to this: my heart finally snapped fully as my childhood died with the man I loved. It was over.


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 58: The Final Battle.

After so much pain and grief, fierce fighting and dogged determination, I could finally take no more. While I sat there on the ground, Voldemort's silencing charm washed over me, but I carried on wordlessly crying Harry's name. I was lost to the world for a time, finally trapped inside my own grief, incapable of doing anything.

I have gone back and looked in the pensieve for this scene because it is very vague in my own memories, and around me the defenders' defiance was breaking out loud and clear. The silencing spell smashed, and people aggressively stood up to Voldemort, first and foremost among them being Ron. When I see it now, I feel fierce pride in him, but back then I was oblivious.

The horrifying knowledge that Harry was gone had invigorated the others, made them even more determined to fight back, fight in his memory. I came to that in time, but right then it was all I could do to stay curled in my tiny ball, trying to take it all in.

Voldemort was perplexed at the attitude around him. It was clear that he'd expected everyone to act like … well, like I was. He seemed to think that we would either fall over in supplication because our friend was dead, or that we would 'accept' his version that Harry had tried to flee, and would therefore shun his memory. He had no understanding of the depth of loyalty that one person could inspire, no way to realise that what he had done had galvanised us in a way that nothing else ever could have. I pity him now. But then … then I was suddenly consumed by the greatest rage I have ever felt.

I had faced too much that day; too many of my friends and loved ones had died because that bastard wanted to rule our world. Fred, Lupin, Tonks, even that unknown girl … and Colin Creevey had been one of those who lay in the Great Hall during my earlier, agonised vigil. But _this_ was the one last straw. I finally understood Tonks and her snarl of rage and need to attack back. All hope may have been lost now, but dammit I was going to take down as many of them as I could.

I stood up, stared one more time at Harry's body, lying limp and chilled on the grass in front of me, then joined the rest in furious protest. Neville had broken free of the crowd and Voldemort was parading him around in front of us, with a burning hat jammed on his head. I struggled to get to him, to help him, but Ron held me back. His eyes were fixed and powerful in his face.

"No, Ginny. Neville's got this one. Look at him; he's going to do something."

I took a real look at the scene in front of me, and just as I realised that Ron was right, Neville whipped off the hat and pulled out something long and gleaming. So fast that I didn't really understand what I was seeing, he flashed out his arm and suddenly the snake's head was flying through the air, and Voldemort was screaming.

In the commotion, I lost sight of Harry's body. I had tried to keep him in sight, tried to hold onto this last thing I had of him, but he had disappeared. I was shot through with agony, but being unable to find him in the commotion invigorated me. I had to get to the front, attack someone, rescue Harry's body. I needed to touch him, feel him, and know through touch the cold feel of his skin. I needed to make it viscerally real, because it still seemed like a dream in some ways, a hideous dream that I could wake up from. I needed that sure touch, to be certain that it was really true – that he really was dead. And the sudden disappearance of his body was denying me that.

Somehow we all ended up in the Great Hall; fights were breaking out all around me, and from somewhere reinforcements had arrived. They must have come while I was in my daze, and between us and them the Death Eaters had been buffeted back into the Great Hall. I had a small twinge of hope that we might be able to make it out of here. With the reinforcements, the two sides were more evenly matched.

I found myself next to Luna and Hermione, with Bellatrix looming in front of us. Without thinking, consumed by rage, I leapt in to attack her, Hermione and Luna following very quickly behind. I wanted to get her, to punish her for killing Tonks so heartlessly. We flung spell after spell at her, and managed to tie her up reasonably well. I'm sure that if there had been only one of us there, or even two, she would have made short work of us. As it was, we were barely holding our own. In my rage I didn't care. This was Voldemort's right-hand, this was one of those responsible for killing Harry. I was going to punish her if I only could.

A burst of green light came racing at me, and I instinctively ducked out of the way. I heard a furious voice scream, and Mum came out of nowhere.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" I gaped at her, amazed at the intensity on her face. I mean I've always known Mum was a lioness, but this was something else, something more. She looked -- almost bloodthirsty.

"OUT OF MY WAY," she shouted and Hermione, Luna and I obeyed without question. There was something in her voice that showed this was not someone to cross. The resulting duel was so fierce that around the Hall, people stopped to look. I was able to take stock, take time to look around. It seemed that most of the remaining Death Eaters were incapacitated. The only remaining fights were Mum and Bellatrix and Voldemort duelling Kingsley, McGonagall and Slughorn, all of whom also had that intense look of hatred on their faces and all were duelling to kill.

I turned to look back at Mum just in time to see Bellatrix's gleeful laugh cut short as she fell to the ground, a look of stunned disbelief on her face. I gasped, immensely proud of Mum and her abilities. I was savagely glad that one of my family had been the one to finish off the witch who had cost us so much. I started towards Mum, wanting to hug her when another flash of green light flew in her direction and a shield bloomed up in front of her. I know that a shield can't block the killing curse, but it distracted Voldemort enough to send his spell slightly off course.

Along with everyone else, I looked around for the source of the shield. As I stared in the direction I thought it had come from, I saw Harry appear as if out of thin air. I know, of course, that he has an invisibility cloak, I'd seen him use it numerous times, even back then, but for that split second I forgot it. I couldn't force my eyes to believe what they were seeing. He seemed to be an apparition. I stared at him, trying to compute his sudden appearance, and my knees buckled under me. For what seemed to be the millionth time that day I was shaking so hard that I couldn't hold my own weight.

I traced Harry's features with my eyes, blocking out everyone but him. I registered the conversation between him and Voldemort in the back of my brain. I could see a new maturity in Harry's face, hear the calm assurance in his voice, and I didn't want to think what he had been through to gain those things. Gone was the reckless boy of the past; in his place stood a self-assured man. It was that, more than anything else, which convinced me that he was real. If I was imagining him, I would have imagined the person I had known, and if he was a ghost he would have been as he was a few short hours ago.

None of these things did more than register vaguely in my consciousness, however; I was too focussed on the knowledge that Harry was here, that he was alive, that he was _real_. While he and Voldemort talked, my eyes roved hungrily over his face, catching every nuance, every small change in expression. I wanted to drink him in, to savour every moment. I didn't even care that this was a duel, probably to the death, between him and Voldemort. It was enough that he was here for this one moment.

Harry radiated a strength that drew all eyes to him. I'm not sure that anyone paid much mind to Voldemort. The few times I flicked my eyes to him, he looked taken aback, and unsure of himself. The loss of his lieutenant, and the sudden reappearance of Harry, had shaken him. I did feel fear over that, as I somehow knew that someone in this state, someone who had lost almost everything, was likely to be more vicious and less likely to back down.

None of that mattered to me, though. I was fixated on Harry. He still looked pale and tired, still had the mud from his battles on him, and yet I had never seen him look better. All his concentration was focussed onto his one enemy. I don't think he even saw anyone else in the room. His world had shrunken down to the two of them. It was fascinating watching him, watching the way he responded to each of Voldemort;'s sallies.

None of the things he said really registered with me at the time, but when I thought about them afterwards, I was in shock. Snape was on our side? Harry really had died? (I let out a sob at that one) Voldemort should feel remorse? Harry was master of an Elder Wand, whatever that was? It was all too overwhelming, and washed over me as I continued to trace the beloved features. It took several discussions with Harry later, and several trips back into the pensieve to really take in everything that was said that day. In the meantime, I continued to watch.

I saw Harry take a deep breath as Voldemort raised his wand, saw him raise his own wand and then two spells collided in midair. With my eyes glued to Harry, I watched as the spells ricocheted, and a wand came flying through the air towards him. I saw him catch it, miraculously still alive, and spun to see what had happened to Voldemort. I saw the green spell rebound into Voldemort's chest, saw the 'o' of his surprise, then the red eyes roll back in his head as he tumbled backwards. It was almost mundane, and for a moment I couldn't believe that he wasn't going to get back up again.

Then I spun back towards Harry, and saw him close his eyes briefly, then open them, the clear green depths searching the room. Numbly I began to move my feet, willing myself to get to him, to finally hold him, to feel his solid touch. Like those moments when I had thought him dead, I had a primal need to feel him, feel his aliveness, to make myself believe the truth of what I was seeing. Suddenly, I was running.

Hermione and Ron, who had been closer to him, got there first and engulfed him in a mass of arms. I threw myself after them and together we hugged, in euphoria that now it truly _was_ over, and that things were not as horrifying as they had seemed even two hours earlier. I felt Harry's arms slide from Hermione and Ron's and encircle me, though the two of them stayed locked in the embrace too, keeping their arms around both of us. Harry buried his face in my hair and we stayed that way for an eternal moment, the solid reassuring 'realness' of him comforting my bruised soul. I could feel his heart beating in his chest, and every beat reminded me that he really was here, really was alive.

More and more people collided with us, as everyone in the room seemed to want to touch Harry too. Reluctantly, I slid my arms away from him and allowed others to get in closer, to have their part of the celebration. I was buffeted back away from him, but I wasn't too upset about it. This had been the single most emotional day I had ever lived through, or hoped to again, and I needed time to process all the conflicting emotions I had coursing through me.

I slipped through the crowd and found Mum. She was standing on the edge of the room, watching with a sad smile on her face. She looked diminished from the powerful witch who had taken on Bellatrix, as if that fight had taken all her energy and left her a hollow shell. I hugged her, and drew her to a bench that was nearby.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I'm sorry it fell the way it did. But you were bloody awesome in that fight."

She smiled weakly, and said, "No-one threatens my kids and gets away with it." The smile slid off her face, and she looked drained and old. I hugged her again, head drifting on to her shoulder as I kept watch on the scrum around Harry. He was in the centre, looking both elated and shattered at the attention.

We needed to talk, I knew, but that talk could wait. We had said everything we needed to in that wordless embrace. I knew we were still 'officially' broken up, but I also knew that the feelings we felt still burned and that in time we would discuss them. For the first moment I could remember, we had the time. I kept my eyes on him, though, feeling his eyes drift to me occasionally. Now, it was the turn of the world we had fought for to have their share, and I stayed on the bench, to be with the one who needed me most. Harry and I had time; I could wait.


	60. Chapter 60

_A/N This is the second to last chapter, people. I'm just giving you fair warning there, and the last one is an epilogue. But I have been talked into a sequel that tells the story of this 'after war' stuff and probably up to the epilogue. This one just got too big, but I feel like there's more story to tell, so after I get that one all planned I'll get to writing._

_Thank you to everyone who's been reading this – you have all been wonderful and I appreciate every comment you've made. You're all made of awesome._

Chapter 59: After the End

Some eternity later, we were all seated haphazardly at the tables in the Great Hall. Harry had been swamped with wellwishers and friends, so I had kept out of his way. I stayed with Mum, mostly. She was still overcome by the whole thing, and to tell the truth, so was I. It had been far too long since any of us had slept, and it was all I could do to force a few mouthfuls of food into me.

I watched Harry as he was surrounded by all those people. I saw that he didn't eat a bite and was concerned because he looked so pale and wiped out. No-one else had noticed, it seemed, and I was just about to go to him and get him out of there when I noticed Luna with him. He listened to her carefully, and then, as she distracted everyone's attention, he slid under his cloak.

A sliver of fear cut through me, and I worried desperately about him, even though I knew he wasn't going to literally disappear on me again. Luna caught me staring at the spot where he had gone, and winked at me. My heart lifted, and I smiled gently back at her.

The day's sun was at its height and the whole Hall was bathed in light through the enchanted ceiling, but I suddenly realised I needed to sleep. Dad and George came up to us and Dad took Mum's arm to lead her carefully out of the Hall. I followed them, not wanting to be separated from my family at this time.

'I'm taking your mother and George home,' Dad whispered to me, his voice scratchy with exhaustion. 'They need sleep, and to be honest I think I do too. Do you want to come?'

'I … um … I don't know, Dad.' It was the truth, I realised. I wanted to be with them, with a kind of agonised need, but equally I needed to be with Harry. 'I think I'll wait for Ron and Percy, and we'll come back together.'

He nodded slightly, rubbing his hand over his face. 'OK, sweetheart; just take care of yourself, and don't do too much.'

I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly, then rushed to Mum and George, who were huddled together, and hugged them too. George's eyes were lost and haunted, and I wondered if he would ever be the same again. He hugged me back and forced a smile onto his face, but it didn't touch his lost eyes.

'You go find that boy, Ginny, and give him a big snog.' I forced a laugh. The tone in his voice made the comment sound odd, though it was just the sort of thing George would say. At least he was trying to act like himself, even if it wasn't working very well. I said I would do my very best, and they apparated out, Dad taking the others sidealong as they just weren't up to it by themselves.

I went to the one place I thought Harry might return to, Gryffindor Tower. It had been hit, of course. There was no part of the castle that was completely untouched. But, apart from some fallen masonry, the common room seemed to be in reasonable shape. It at least provided shelter, and, after a bit of magical dusting, comfortable sofas to huddle on.

I sat there, reminiscing about other times I had sat on these couches: listening in on Harry's conversations, holding vigil after Cedric was killed, arguing with Dean over Harry. It always came back to Harry, and I felt somehow close to him sitting here. In a shaft of sunlight from the paned window, I slid into a light sleep, unable to keep my eyes open even long enough to wait for Harry to come.

Sometime later, I woke up. The stream of sunlight had moved off the couch I was on and I felt stiff and disorientated. I blinked owlishly around me, and saw Harry curled on the other squishy couch in the room, an untouched sandwich by his side. I smiled, slid off the seat and padded over to him. Now that we were here, alone together, I was unsure what to do. Did I snuggle up to him, the way I did in the days when we were dating? Did I leave him here and deal with it later? Did I just sit down and wait for him to wake up? Did he even want me here? Had that hug just been an 'in the moment' thing, and meant nothing? What was the correct etiquette when seeing your ex-dead, ex-boyfriend sleeping mere feet away from where you, yourself, fell asleep? I had no experience with this, so I stood there uncertainly, looking down at him.

I wasn't left in much doubt for long. By the time I had been through my litany of 'what do I do' twice, Harry's eyes had opened and he was looking at me. I melted. He looked so unburdened for the first time I could remember. He sat up, and just held his hand out to me. I slid down next to him, still unsure what to do. In the normal course of our relationship, we had both been so free and easy together; now we both sat a little awkwardly.

All this long day I had hoped for this moment, hoped to be alone with him. But now the time had come I couldn't rally my shattered wits enough to formulate any sentence, anything that seemed to matter in light of the huge changes the day had wrought. He seemed to feel the same way, and so we sat just looking at each other. Eventually, I remembered the long moment we had shared in the immediate aftermath of the battle, and I reached towards him.

My hand touched his haggard-looking face, cupping his cheek. The eyes that had held mine so steadfastly closed, and he leaned into the touch. He gathered me up into another embrace, and this time there was no-one else sharing it with us. Every emotion that had pounded through me since I had left home yesterday flooded between us, and I felt his come back to me. Anguish, fear, exhilaration, joy, despair, untold grief, love … they all flowed between us and I felt his tears, wet on my hair, as he held me. We stayed that way, buried in one another, for an eternity.

In fact we only broke apart when someone cleared their throat loudly nearby. I looked up, still dazed. Ron was standing there, looking bemused, but Hermione was next to him, hand clasped in his, looking smug but happy. A little thankful for the interruption, which watered down some of the intense emotions I had coursing through me, I grinned up at Ron.

'So, you finally had the guts to do it, huh?'

'Do what?'

'Go after the girl you really want, doofus.'

'Actually, Ginny,' an amused voice from beside me said, and I turned to see Harry pointing at Hermione, '_She_ went after the bloke she really wants. I was there; it was not a pretty sight.'

Ron blushed his best Weasley red, but Hermione just laughed. 'You're one to talk,' she said. 'Who was it started snogging in front of the entire house? At least you were our only witness.'

The three of them slipped into more easy banter, and I was reminded forcibly that they had all been such a tight-knit group over the past year. I felt sidelined, and somewhat excluded, until Harry squeezed my hand and looked over at me again. Once more, as we held the gaze, there was no-one in the world other than the two of us, and I knew that, no matter what, I had Harry for good now. With a contented sigh, I laid my head on his shoulder, and closed my eyes again. I hadn't had nearly enough sleep.

Ron coughed uncomfortably, and I forced my eyes open again.

'Could you keep the lovey dovey stuff for somewhere else? I still can't handle the idea of my best mate and my little sister getting busy.'

'It's not lovey dovey. I'm tired, and I want to sleep some more. So, could you just maybe go away so I can?'

I felt Harry stiffen beside me, and I realised my mistake. I hastened to correct it, saying, 'No, I didn't mean that. I meant that _right now_, I just want to sleep. I do, you know … still really … _like_ you.' I blushed as I said it. I hadn't wanted to say that in front of Ron and Hermione, but he needed to know. He nodded, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. I thought, in passing, that it was amazing they were as undamaged as they were.

'I really … _like_ … you, too.' He said, looking about as uncomfortable as I felt. His discomfort calmed me down, and I felt reassured that we were both in this together. Neither one of us had all the answers, but we surely had all the right emotions. And time, I reminded myself. Time. We didn't have to do this at the speed of light. We were sixteen and seventeen, and we had years to make our way through this thing if we wanted them.

I sighed and dragged myself to my feet. Harry looked at me quizzically and I said, 'we need to go home. At least, I need to go, and I was hoping you would come too …'

'Oh, um … I don't know, Ginny. I'm not sure they'd want …'

'Don't be a bigger git than normal, Harry. Mum and Dad would kill me if I didn't make sure Ginny brought you home with her.' Ron's voice was firm. 'Besides, I'm not taking her sidealong, and she needs to get there somehow.' The innocent face Ron put on didn't fool anyone, but Harry gave in with reasonably good grace.

'Do you think we can apparate from here, now?' Hermione asked. '_Hogwarts, a History_, says –'

'We can,' I said. 'Dad took Mum and George out of the Entrance Hall earlier. The protections must be broken for now.'

Harry took my hand, and it was warm and steady in mine. I smiled up at him, and felt the now-familiar compression as we disapparated. We landed just outside the Burrow's walls, and for a minute the house seemed almost alien. So much had happened since I had last been here, that it was surreal that it looked no different to normal. Reason soon reasserted itself, though, and I saw that there had been some hasty work done on the place to make it inhabitable.

Ron and Hermione appeared by our sides, and together we walked into the house. The group that surrounded the kitchen table was a sombre one. Mum and George still looked as if they were just going through the motions, and neither looked as if they had got much rest. Dad was trying to keep things as normal as he could, I could tell, but it was a strain for him. I think it was his way of dealing with what we'd been through. Fleur was bustling in the kitchen, and making as cheerful a chatter as she could. No-one but Dad and Fleur were talking, however, and the conversation between them was tense and awkward.

When we entered, Mum showed the first signs of life, and rushed over to gather us all up. She hugged Harry the last and tears were threatening in her eyes when she stepped back from him again.

'Thank you,' she said. 'Thank you for what you did.'

He shrugged uncomfortably, and said, 'I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs Weasley. I wish …'

She patted his cheek, and managed to get out, 'I know. We all do, but he, but they … died for what we believed in.' She couldn't carry on, and turned away.

A baby's gurgle caught my attention, and I noticed for the first time a strange woman sitting amongst my family members. I knew who this must be, of course; the baby looked just like Remus and his hair was a vivid purple, an incongruous colour in all the sadness that surrounded the table. That made the woman Andromeda Tonks, Tonks' mother. I understood why she was here. She had lost so much in this war. Every member of her family except for Teddy was gone, and I figured Fleur had probably welcomed her into our family.

Fleur often surprised me. She had come a long way from the annoying flirt I had first met and now showed herself as a compassionate and understanding person. I knew she was the most likely one to have thought that Mum and Andromeda might be able to help each other to heal from their various emotional wounds.

Harry stared at the baby, mesmerised. I could tell he was thinking about how Teddy was an orphan just like he was, and that he wanted to avoid Teddy having the type of life he'd endured. Andromeda stood up, and moved over to where we stood together. She handed Harry the baby, and said, 'I can't think of anyone better to look after my grandson and guide him through the life he now has.' Harry held the baby awkwardly, and it was obvious from the look on his face, that he was worried that he couldn't stand up to those expectations.

Ron started sniggering, and slowly everyone else joined in, as Harry continued to jiggle the baby as if he was a time bomb waiting to go off. He quickly handed him back to Andromeda, and reluctantly broke into a grin.

'Don't worry, Harry. You'll learn, and he will, of course, stay with me most of the time.' Andromeda had a slight spark in her eye, and the whole table seemed a little less defeated as Harry slumped in relief.

Hours later, I was in bed, thinking about all the events of this very odd day. I was exhausted, and desperate to sleep but my mind kept churning. My tiny room was stifling and my thoughts refused to settle and allow me the release of dreams. I looked at the small clock I had on the wall and it whispered the time to me, so as not to wake up the rest of the house. I groaned. 2 am. I slid my feet out of bed and wrapped a silky gown around myself, then headed downstairs, thinking I might get a glass of cold milk or something before trying to sleep again.

It was cooler downstairs, and I was thinking I might take my milk outside to enjoy the cool air. As I passed through the Living Room, however, a patch of moonlight illuminated the shape of someone sitting staring out the window. Recognising the black head, I slipped up to him, and sat down too.

'Couldn't sleep either, huh?'

'Nope. It's been ... a long day, Ginny. I can't stop thinking of everything.'

'Me either,' I whispered, sliding my arm around him, enjoying the solid, _alive_ feel of him. 'I keep thinking about it all. Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin … you.' I turned to look at him, trying to keep accusation out of my voice, but he kept looking out the window, carefully not returning my gaze.

'I thought of you, you know … before … he did it.'

I started, not sure I was ready to hear this, but something about the night surrounding us made it easier to talk, and he carried on. 'I couldn't tell you loads of stuff, last year. I really wanted to, but … well, nevermind why not.' He finally did look at me, and I snuggled closer, aware how much this was hurting him to say.

'Thing is, Voldemort had these things, these cases for his soul, kind of. They kept him alive, and I had to find and destroy them all.'

I shuddered as I thought about it. That's what they had been up to this year? Hunting pieces of Voldemort?

'And after Snape died,' he swallowed and turned back to the window, 'after that … well, he gave me some memories to see, and … and … I was one, too. My scar, that's where it …'

I sat up then, startled. 'You had a piece of him? In you?' Horrified realisation dawned. 'That's why you had to be killed? That's why you went to him when he asked you to? Oh, Harry!'

He was still not looking at me, so I took his face and turned it to mine. 'I'm so sorry, Harry. Sorry you had to do that, sorry you had to go through it alone.'

He shifted uncomfortably, but said, 'I only made it through with the help of my parents, and the thought of you.'

I decided against quizzing him on how his parents could possibly have helped, and instead went to the heart of what he was telling me. There was a unique connection between us, and I could understand it a little better now. I know I've explained this elsewhere in this memoir, but it wasn't until this point that I understood, really understood, what that time between us in the Chamber of Secrets had wrought. I doubted there were any other people in the world who would understand what it was like to be tainted by Voldemort in that way.

I gasped suddenly, causing him to break out of his thoughts and look at me. 'Tom's diary. It was one of them, wasn't it?'

Harry nodded, and I shuddered, remembering how horrible that year had been, and how disgusted I had become with myself and the world around me. Then I thought it our a little more. I had lived with that piece of soul for months; Harry had lived with one for years. I marvelled again at how strong he was. He was drooping now, though, and I knew the conversation had taken a lot out of him.

'Come here.' I took his hand and pulled him over to the couch with me. With a quick flip of a wand it was large enough for two people to lie together comfortably. His eyes had that hooded, glazed look people get when they are beyond tired. I made him lie down, and slid in beside him.

'I know you can't sleep, and neither can I, but I think we should just be together. I feel like nothing can hurt me when I'm with you, and it's weird, but something heals in me when we're together. I still feel … today was just so …' I sighed, frustrated that I couldn't get the words out, but he nodded his understanding.

'I know. Being together … closes the night in, I don't know ...' He paused, unsure how to voice the emotions, either. I agreed with him.

'I understand. It isn't so big or so haunting.'

We lay together, not talking, just thinking. And being there together, my thoughts had stopped churning. They were still sad, of course. There was no way to wipe out the grief, but locked in his embrace and after I heard his breathing slide in a peaceful cadence, I was able to drift into sleep finally, too.

There was a lot to talk about still, a lot to go through. But we were together now, and we could overcome all the rest.


	61. Chapter 61

Epilogue: Four years later

We had chosen the day carefully. We wanted Fred to be there with us, too, at least in spirit, so we deliberately set the date for the anniversary of the Battle at Hogwarts. Harry wanted to do it at Hogwarts itself, wanted to be in that place that he thought of as 'home,' but as it was during term time I talked him out of it. I really didn't want students gawking at us while we did it. Instead, I reminded him that at least if we had it at the Burrow, we wouldn't have as much room so it couldn't be as big a circus as it would be if we had the whole of Hogwarts grounds to fit people in. Still media-shy, this appealed to him immediately, so I got my way and had the wedding in my childhood home.

Mum had banished Harry for the night, saying he wasn't allowed to se me on the day of the wedding since it was bad luck, and so he couldn't possibly wake up there. I rolled my eyes, but gave in. It was less trouble to let her do the whole 'old witch's tale' thing. Besides, even four years later, this day was a hard one for her. The night before, then, I gave Harry a hasty kiss before he apparated out to spend the night at the flat he shared with Ron, rather than staying in this place he thought of as his second home, and I was dragged back into the house for all the last minute preparation.

I was pleasantly surprised when those 'preparations' turned out to be cakes and drinks with Mum, Fleur, Andromeda, Hermione and Luna, no boys allowed.

Luna had been recently married herself, and she had us all in stitches with stories of her wedding.

'… then the Romanian Red-backed Hightailers swooped in, singing their songs of peace and love, and we all followed them outside to dabble our feet in the sand, for purification'

'But, Luna … didn't you get married in winter? Wasn't that cold?' Mum had already had a few firewhiskeys, and was asking the questions she had been dying to know since the ceremony had taken place.

'Oh, no!' Luna seemed shocked. 'The solspers were racing through the sand keeping everyone warm. They're very attuned to magical days, and of course we got married on the coldest day of winter. It's especially lucky.'

I could see Hermione struggling not to respond, but in the end she just smiled at me, raised her eyebrows and her glass, and turned the conversation.

I sat there with these women who had all been so much a part of my life for the past several years, and I inexplicably felt sad. We were at the end of something now. I knew it was a starting over, a building of a new life for me and Harry, but this was the last time I could call this place home. I looked over at Mum and saw the same knowledge in her eyes, and a small sad smile on her face.

I made my way over to where she was sitting, and cuddled onto her knee like I had when I was a little girl. She put her arms around me and I whispered, 'Don't worry, Mum. Just remember, now I won't be sitting here doing this and moaning about how Harry doesn't even know I exist.'

'Good thing too,' she said. 'You're getting a bit heavy.' She chuckled when I tried to pull back and kept her arms around me. We stayed that way, watching the others horsing around, for several minutes. Finally, I pulled back and looked at her and she smiled at me, pushing my hair back off my face the way she always used to.

'It's the right thing, love. I've known for years. You went through so much for each other, I'm surprised it took this long.'

'It didn't really take this long, Mum. This is just a formality; we've been 'us' since forever, and we saw no need to rush.'

The next morning dawned bright and clear. I woke and slid out of my room and padded up to the one that Fred had shared with George. George lived at the shop now, so it was a good place to go to have a yarn with Fred. I missed him with an acute ache that was even more intense because he wouldn't be here on this day. The least I could do was include him in the celebrations. I sat down on his bed and began to talk, feeling like a bit of a fool.

'Fred. Where to start? You remember how you used to tell me that only insane people get married? Well, I guess I must be insane.' I chuckled. I could hear Fred's voice teasing me, saying that if Harry ever did marry me it would be out of pity. 'I guess he's insane, too, huh?' I drew my knees up to my chest and hugged them. 'I wish you could be here Fred. It doesn't seem right, doing this without you. Of all my brothers, you were one of the worst for trying to protect my innocence, so I'd dearly love to see the look on your face as I did this.'

I grinned to myself, imagining what tricks Fred might have thought up for Harry. I'd heard him bemoaning the fact that at Bill's wedding he couldn't do anything to Fleur, because Bill had no sense of humour when it came to her, and was big enough to mash Fred to a pulp.

'I wonder what George has in store for us. He's been awfully secretive lately and I get the feeling he's going to make this a big one in your honour. Anyway, time's a-wasting and I'd better go down before Mum blows a gasket. You know what she's like. Take care, Fred, wherever you are.'

I blew a kiss to the room at large and left to go down to Mum. She was starting to get weepy, so I planted a kiss on her cheek, and said cheerfully, 'What's for brekkie, Mum? I'm starved!'

She stared at me incredulously, and said, 'You're hungry? On my wedding day I couldn't eat a bite until we'd been through the ceremony. I was that set about by nerves.'

'Why would I be nervous, Mum? I told you – this is a formality, an excuse to get dressed up in pretty robes and get the family together. What's to be nervous about in that?'

She came over and hugged me. 'I should have known you'd be like this. You've always been so strong in your opinions, Ginny. It's quite scary how relentlessly you go after what you want. It's a good thing Harry's the same or you'd walk all over him. Now, what do you want for breakfast then?'

Dad came in from his last minute once-over of the marquee outside, and also stared incredulously at me as I tucked into a huge plate of bacon and eggs. Unlike Mum, though, he just kissed the top of my head and wished me a happy day. I squeezed his arm with one hand and smiled at him.

Mum interrupted us right then, by saying, 'goodness, look at the time. Ginny, you have to get upstairs. Everyone will be arriving soon and you're nowhere near ready.'

She snatched me away from one last bite of bacon and I felt a lot like I had all those years ago when she'd pulled me down Diagon Alley almost as fast as flying. In no time at all, it seemed, I was being fussed over upstairs. I whined and complained and kept up my side of the affair, but to tell you the truth it was kind of nice having Mum brush my hair like the old days. After a while I forgot to complain, and we started up a litany of 'do you remember …'

'Do you remember the day you met Harry for the first time?'

'Do you remember the way I fell over and refused to cry because George told me crying was wussy?'

'Do you remember how you refused to wear girly clothes because you wanted to be a boy?'

'Do you remember the way you taught me how to be a girl while surrounded by boys?'

We were just sharing a chuckle over that one, remembering my foot-scuffing, lowered lashed attacks on the boys' patience in the early days of my Harry obsession, when Hermione tapped on the door and came in. She was dressed in soft green robes that fluttered prettily around her knees, and her hair was tamed again into a stylish knot on top of her head.

Hermione rushed over and hugged me, and I succumbed to giggles and hugged her back. Mum looked on happily.

'Giddy giggles! Now you're getting into the spirit, my girl.'

An hour later, and Mum's fussing had caused a few nerves to set in. Seeing me in my robes, she pressed a handkerchief to her eyes and slipped out of the room. Hermione was in the bathroom fixing her own hair, which had started to escape from its sleek style, and I was suddenly alone again. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought back on all it had taken to get me to this point.

There had been joys, of course, but so much of my life with Harry had been tinged with heartbreak, and the echoes of that day 4 years ago still haunted me. I knew that life would never be all flowers and rainbows for us; too much water had passed under the bridge for us to ever have that 'normal' lifestyle. But, standing there I realised I didn't want that life anyway. All I wanted was a life with Harry; whatever it may bring, whatever demons we still had to battle. So long as we were together, we could get past any of those things. I'd known that 4 years ago as we slept on a couch, and I knew it with even greater certainty now.

I remembered my Miss Dramatic days, and snorted. Poor Miss Dramatic would have had a field day with all the angst and worry of the last few years. Thankfully, I had grown up and hadn't had the desire to clasp my hand to my brow for quite some time. That's not to say I didn't get dramatic at times, of course, but I had started living in reality; a reality that finally included Harry. I smiled at myself in the mirror, nerves once again at bay.

Dad knocked on the door and came in. He smiled as he looked at me, and said, 'It's time to go, love. You look beautiful.'

Hermione came bustling in, in a bit of a flap because her hair was refusing to co-operate. Dad calmed her down, and did a quick fixing spell on her hair, saying to me as an aside, 'the amount of times I've had to do this for your mother …'

I took a deep breath, smoothed the skirt of my robes down, and we turned to leave the room. I was still a little nervous as Dad and I followed Hermione down the stairs and out the back door. As soon as I saw Harry waiting at the front of the marquee, however, I forgot it all. He was the only thing I could focus on, and seeing him, with his proud eyes and a smile playing about his lips, I knew again that whatever came we could get through it together.

As I reached Harry, Dad gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then we were alone, or it felt like we were. There were hundreds of people here – no-one could resist the lure of the wedding of Harry Potter – but it felt like there were just the two of us. The small wizard who was conducting the ceremony cleared his throat and we were recalled back to our surroundings. I forced myself to stop looking at Harry and listen to what the wizard was saying.

It was all pretty standard stuff, and by halfway through I realised that all of these things – the love, the commitment, the sticking together through thick and thin – we had done all those, and more, and come out the other side. As I had told Mum over and over, this really was just formalising something that we had begun long ago. Reassured, I relaxed into the moment, turning once more to look into Harry's eyes.

A thought tickled the back of my mind, and I tried to push it away, but it kept coming back. George had still done nothing to Harry. Here we were, saying our vows, almost married, and nothing had happened. I was suspicious, very suspicious. However, when the old wizard came to the end of his speech and pronounced us married, and I reached up to kiss Harry as thoroughly as Mum's nerves would permit, I forgot for a moment. Of course, that was right when George struck. He always had perfect timing.

Around us we heard gasps, and people began pointing upwards. I looked in the direction they were pointing and my jaw dropped. Fifty feet in the air fireworks were going off, but not any fireworks. These were shaped like Harry and I. Around the two of us were insubstantial figures, just enough to give the impression of a crowd. I took in the Gryffindor quidditch robes the huge me was wearing, and the school uniform the giant Harry had on, and my heart gave a lurch.

'Is that … the day we got together?' Harry whispered urgently to me, a blush staining his cheeks

'Yes, I think so,' I said.

I watched as the huge me raced across the sky towards the huge Harry, and while I wanted to curse George (who wants to see themselves _that_ big?), I admit it was kind of sweet. The huge me almost tackled Harry as she leapt on him and began kissing him passionately. He was almost knocked off his feet and the look on his face was comical as he flung his arms around her for balance. Beside me, the real Harry was squirming in embarrassment.

I leaned back and said, 'Psssst, George! It wasn't like that!'

He just grinned at me, and said, 'Artistic license, little sis. That's how it _should_ have been.'

'I'll get you later!' I warned him.

He put on an innocent expression. 'I wasn't there, so I had to go by hearsay. Anyway, this is how Fred wanted it. We'd been planning this since the day we heard about that,' he waved his hand towards the fireworks above.

I gave him a half-exasperated, half-laughing glare, and turned away. Fred. Once again, I wished he was there, but George was right. He was with us in spirit, and always would be, especially if there was fun to be had.

As the fireworks people began to fade away, I turned to Harry and kissed him again. This time, most of those around us were still watching the sky, so we were in our own little world. No-one and nothing else mattered, and we drew strength from each other. George was wrong, I reflected. _That_ kiss wasn't how it should have been; this one was. Always and forever.


End file.
